


All Bets Are Off

by whatifsometimes



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Cheating, F/F, F/M, Sex, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:10:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 33,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11953686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatifsometimes/pseuds/whatifsometimes
Summary: Beca makes a bet with her best-friend Tom that leads to a series of events no one could have ever predicted.





	1. Beca Mitchell

**Friday, October 2 nd **

 

                “What about Chloe?” Tom whispers, from his desk beside Beca’s. They’re in history class, wearing their school uniforms which only makes their conversation feel that much dirtier. 

                Beca shakes her head, “no way, dude. She’s dating my cousin. You know, the one that I _live_ with.”

                “So?” Tom shrugs.

                So, any sane human being would know that their cousin's girlfriend is off limits. But nobody ever claimed that Thomas was sane. He means it when he says 'you should fuck Chloe' and if it was any other cousin, Beca would. She just can't do that to Jesse. Not when he had held through her parents' funeral and stayed awake with her during the countless nights she couldn't sleep. 

                “I'm not about to do that, Tom. Name someone else.” Beca says, tapping her finger on her desk. “Literally, anyone else.”

                “Why? Are you afraid you can’t get her?” Tom asks, his lips stretching into an all too dangerous grin.

                Beca feels the blood rush faster through her veins. He’s challenging her because he knows she can't say no to one of his challenges. She hadn't said no when it had gotten them both suspended or when it had gotten her arrested, and he knows she isn't about to say no now.

                Her and Tom had become friends a few weeks after her parents died. She’d snuck into a bar hoping to get blackout drunk, instead, she ran into him. They knew each other from growing up in the same town and seeing each other at school, but they hadn't talked before that night. 

                After that it didn't take long for them to figure out that they were both twisted enough to fit perfectly together. They were reckless and ruthless. They'd sleep together and then fuck other people. They'd push each other over, then offer a hand to help the other back up. Tom's a bad guy but Beca’s an even worse girl. They played with fire and everyone got burnt. 

                “Alright, fine. I’ll do it,” Beca says, unable to hide her smirk. This will inevitably blow up in their faces, but she’ll still go through with it. “Right, so, we have a threesome if I don’t sleep with Chloe," Beca says, restating Tom's earlier proposal. "But what do I get if I _do_ sleep with her?”

                “Besides getting to fuck the hottest girl in school?” Tom taps his chin pretending to think. “I’ll give you my car, and pay the insurance for five months.”

                “I’m not going to fuck with what little family members I have left for a fucking car. Name something else or the bet’s off.”

                Tom nods, “I’ll get a tattoo on my dick.”

                Beca laughs and their history teacher Mrs. Lincoln glares at her. When she turns back to her textbook, Beca says, “as much as seeing you in pain gives me pleasure, it has to be as high stakes as sleeping with Chloe is. You know Vanessa already hates me, if it gets out that I slept with her son’s girlfriend I could get kicked out of the Swanson's house.”

                “Fine, I’ll use my entire college savings to buy you an apartment in LA after we graduate.” 

                “You’d do that?” Beca asks, not believing him. Tom’s dad is not to be messed with, and Beca couldn’t trust that if it came down to Tom saving his ass against his father or making good on a bet, he’d be faithful to the bet.

                Tom shrugs, “I’ll probably get scouted for football next year anyway. And after I turn eighteen my dick-head father can’t control me so, yeah. I _would_ do that.”

                “I’ll cut your balls off if you don’t make good.” Beca threatens. Obviously, she wouldn't do exactly that but something to that extent, and he knows it.

                “Cross my heart.”

                Beca rolls her eyes, “I need you to swear on something you actually have.”  

                He stretches his hand across the space between their desks and wiggles his fingers like, _what do you say_. Beca exhales, making the hair by her mouth fly up. She reaches over and shakes his hand. 

                He grins feline like and Beca knows whatever he's going to say can’t be good. “Oh, and Beca? I’m going to need visual proof.”

                “ ** _What?!_** ”

                “Do you two have something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?” Mrs. Lincoln snaps.

                Every pair of eyes in the room fall to the back of the class, and where other kids would blush and stammer out apologies, Tom and Beca grin and wink, like nothing can touch them.

                Like life’s their playground, and people are their toys.


	2. Chloe Beale

“What’s that?” Jesse asks, looking over Chloe’s shoulder.

                They both stare down at a small piece of paper that looks like it's been ripped from the corner of a notebook. The words written on it are jagged and messy.  _150 Pineberry Court – Thomas Matthews’ First Friday Of October Party. You Should Come – Beca Mitchell._  

                “It fell out of my locker,” Chloe says, not sure what to think of it. Despite having been dating Beca’s cousin for almost a year, Chloe hadn’t gotten to know the younger girl. Besides what Jesse sometimes tells her, Chloe, like most people in their school, knew Beca through the many rumors about her. 

                They were lewd rumors that  _always_ involved Thomas Matthews. They made Beca out to seem like a salacious bitch, but Chloe's not the kind of girl to judge a person based on what other people say. They could just be jealous, after all. Beca _is_ pleasing to look at. She isn’t textbook beautiful, her chocolate brown hair is always a bit messy, and her stormy-blue eyes are cruel, but her stride is confident, and her smile turns heads. And that’s all it takes to make enemies in high school.

                “Chloe?” Jesse says, pulling her out of her head.

                “Hmm?”

                “I said, maybe it’s Beca’s way of reaching out,” her boyfriend says, rummaging through his locker. “She's never had any girlfriends that I'm aware of and my mom's not really an option. You're always around though, and you're nice. Maybe she wants to talk to you.” He pulls his head out of his locker and frowns. “Matthews better not have gotten her pregnant.”

                Chloe’s mouth drops open, “is that a real possibility?”

                “I don’t know,” Jesse shrugs, helplessly. “As far as I know she’s always been safe about those things. But she hasn't confided in me since she met her douchebag best friend.”

                Chloe looks down at the note, if Beca needs her help, she  _has_ to go. Except that parties at 150 Pineberry Court are always getting radioed in on her father’s handheld transmitter. If she asks to go, there's no way he'll let her. She bites her lip, if she's going to help Beca, she'll have to lie to do it. 

                Giving Jesse a quick peck on the lips, she says, “I have to go. I’ll see you Saturday?”

                “Definitely,” Jesse smiles, pulling her in for a longer, more satisfying kiss. “You’ll tell me if Beca’s in trouble, right?”

                “Only if she doesn’t swear me to secrecy first,” Chloe says, turning and walking down the crowded hallway.

                Chloe finds her Aubrey sitting at a table in the library surrounded by freshmen. Despite always being five minutes away from stress vomiting all over the place, her best friend refuses to have any free time. _This is our senior year, Chloe_ , she'd say every time Chloe would try to get her to take some time off, _I want to do everything I possibly can_. 

                “Bree,” Chloe interrupts, making all eyes fall on her. “Can I borrow you for a second?”

                Aubrey nods, turning back to the freshmen she's tutoring. “Practice a couple questions on your own for a few minutes.”

                Grabbing Aubrey’s hand, Chloe drags them into the Young-Adult Nonfiction section of the library. 

                “What’s going on, Chlo’? Are you okay?” Aubrey asks. Anyone you ask will tell you that Aubrey Posen is the most intimidating high schooler they know. But to Chloe, she's as soft as Play-Doh. 

                “I’m fine, I just need you to cover for me tonight.”

                Aubrey’s mouth drops open, “oh my gosh, Chloe Elizabeth Beale, are you finally going to have sex with Jesse?!” 

                Chloe’s cheeks burn, “ _shhh!_ That’s not—no, definitely no. It's not for that reason.”

                “Okay,” Aubrey laughs at the embarrassed look on Chloe’s face. “For what then?”

                Letting out a breath, Chloe explains the situation to Aubrey. Aubrey nods her head as she listens, but doesn’t look the least bit happy. When Chloe finishes with her explanation, Aubrey says, “what does she want with you? And at one of Thomas's party? You know the two of them are like notorious for stupid ideas, right? This could just be some sick move in their messed-up game of chess.”

                “Thomas is _sixteen_ , Bree," Chloe reasons with a laugh. "Beca’s fifteen _._ You make them sound like evil masterminds plotting against humanity or something.”

                Aubrey narrows her eyes.

                "Please, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."    


                She sighs, “okay, I’ll cover for you tonight. But be careful Chlo’. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

                "Yes! Thank you. I love you so much," Chloe says, pulling her best friend into a tight hug. 


	3. Beca Mitchell

                The party’s already raging and it’s only fifteen minutes past nine. Tom gave up greeting everyone at the door after the first four people, and now everybody’s just streaming in and out like they own the place. But none of them is the red-haired, blue-eyed girl Beca’s been waiting for.

                Sighing, Beca goes into the kitchen to grab a beer. She opens the cooler on the counter and is about to grab a bottle of beer when someone slams the lid shut. Beca jerks her hands away, narrowly missing the opportunity to crush all her fingers and claim disability for the rest of her life. Her heart batters against her rib cage.

                “What the fuck?” She hisses, whirling around to nail whoever did it in the face.

                Tom steps back, ducking just out of reach of her fist. Beca glares at him. He just stands there in his pre-faded red muscle shirt, and a denim cap backward on his head. “What do you think you’re doing?” He asks, with a sleazy grin. His eyes linger on Beca’s ripped jeans, traveling up to her purposely holey grey t-shirt, and stopping at her chest.

                Beca rolls her eyes, “getting a drink? Have you never been to a party before?”

                “Uh, no your not. You have to be completely sober when you fuck Chloe.”

                “What?”

                Tom smiles, “and you have to do it within three weeks. I’m not going to wait forever for it to happen.”

                Beca grinds her teeth, this is what she meant when she said that they pushed each other over. “If you’re going to keep adding things to this bet then I get to do it too.”

                He shrugs, taking a sip from his solo cup, “fine by me.”

                Beca thinks hard for a minute, she has to be precise with her words or Tom will find a loophole in them. “Okay, after I show you the visual proof, I delete it, and you can never speak of it again.”

                He lets out an annoyed huff, “what else?”

                “If I lose, I get to choose who we have the threesome with.”

                “What do you mean choose? It's going to be Stacie.”

                “I don’t want it to be Stacie,” Beca argues. Stacie’s the only person that Beca has deemed off limit.

                Tom laughs, “who else in this backward town would agree to a threesome with the two of us? Think, Beca.”

                Beca laughs, he’s got a point. Whenever she bumps into Reverend Joseph, he looks at her like she's the devil incarnate. And only because word got out that she and Tom propositioned a teacher in the lounge room. They were only given a weeks suspension for it. Tom thinks that's because Mrs. Bronson was secretly flattered that they had chosen her to fulfill their debauched 'fantasy'. That if principal Bingham hadn't walked in on them, maybe she'd have even gone through with it.

                “Are we settled?” Tom asks. He’s starting to look hungrily at the girls around the kitchen. It reminds Beca of a cheetah stalking a dear, calculating the perfect time to strike. Twisted, beautiful, bloodthirsty.

                “We can’t add anything else after this, got it?”

                Tom nods, “now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve found my flavor for tonight.” He flashes his perfect white teeth at her. “How do I look?”

                Beca eyes track the sandy hair peeking out from under his cap, his naturally suntanned skin, and lustful eyes. Tom's not asking because he needs to know. He already does, and so does she. Tom has every girl eating off the palm of his hand. Having been there more than a few times, Beca knows first hand how exhilarating it is to have all his undivided attention.

                Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, she pushes her lips almost violently against his. Tom's eyes close, but Beca keeps hers open. Some girls in the "Thomas Matthews Fan Club" roll their eyes and walk away. It sends a rush of power to Beca's head.

                Tom pulls away first, “so, really fucking hot, then?”

                Beca laughs, pushing him away. He leaves, making his move on a girl that’s barely dressed, standing in the corner of the kitchen, practically groping herself to the beat of the music.

                There has never been in a moment in all the time Beca has known Tom that she thought she was in love with him. But it goes without saying that no matter how many people they fuck or how many serious relationships they have, the two of them will always be tied together.

                Like two trees that have been twisted together for eternity, Tom and Beca have stretched and shaped themselves into a combination no one can untangle. There's no Thomas Matthews without Beca, and there will never be a Beca Mitchell without Tom. There can't be, not after everything they've been through.


	4. Chloe Beale

                150 Pineberry Court is pulsing with music when Aubrey drops Chloe off. The house is a white and grey mini mansion at the end of a cul-de-sac that backs into a thickly wooded forest. Maybe it’s preconceived ideas subconsciously coming through or Aubrey lecturing her about everything that could go wrong on the way here, but the whole place looks and feels like trouble.

                Being a cheerleader, Chloe’s been to countless parties before but never one of the infamous ones hosted by Thomas Matthews. And to be honest, the only thing keeping her from going back to the car and asking Aubrey to take her home is the fact that Beca might need her. It fuels Chloe enough to march up the front lawn and push through the front door.  

                She's immediately hit with a wave of alcohol and sweat smelling heat. She tugs on her collar, it's way too hot for her to be wearing the dark-blue sweater and jeans that she is. 

                Somebody knocks into her and she's stumbling between bodies in the dark. Then in what Chloe thinks is the living room, there are lights -- strobe lights -- going off that distorts her vision with every blink. Squinting, she continues pushing through people she doesn't know until she finds Beca.

                It takes her a second but when she finally makes out what Beca’s doing, she's shocked. Beca has a blonde girl pushed up against the wall, their mouths fused together. Her hand reaches under the girl's shirt, groping at places Chloe doesn’t even want to think about.

                When the shock wears off, Chloe strides over to them and taps Beca shoulders.

                Beca pulls away from the girl with an angry look on her face. When her eyes land on Chloe, it quickly snaps into an ecstatic grin. She wipes her lips on the back of her hand, “hey! You came!”

                The blonde narrows her eyes loathingly at Chloe. She mutters "bitch" under her breath before walking away. 

                Chloe scoffs and Beca laughs. Her cruel-eyes glow in this lighting. That and the wicked smile on her lips makes her look dangerous. Wild and unpredictable like a caged animal waiting to be let out. She looks like the kind of person Chloe avoids at parties. 

                Grabbing Chloe’s hand, Beca drags her towards a storage closet. She shuts the door and all the noise dims like they're submerged underwater. Chloe feels like she can finally breathe. 

                “So, you're—” _Lesbian? Bisexual? Experimenting? On drugs?_

                “Living my life?” Beca fills in for her. That’s not exactly the answer Chloe was expecting but she nods anyway. “Yeah, just don’t tell Vanessa. She’ll try to have me exorcised or something.”

                Chloe's eyes widen.

                "That was a joke," Beca says, smirking.

                "Right," Chloe flushes, embarrassed. "Um, so, how'd you know you were into girls?" She asks, thinking that maybe this is why Beca asked her to come to the party. 

                Beca glances down at Chloe’s lips and licks her own. Chloe’s stomach jerks so hard, she has to blink twice to get through it. “That’s easy,” Beca says, staring right into Chloe’s eyes. “I saw a girl that was hot and I thought: damn, I’d really like to fuck her. And, I did. She wasn't nearly as beautiful as you are though.”

                Chloe’s cheeks burn, do fifteen-year-old's really say things like that? “Oh.”

                “Yeah, I mean it’s the same for a straight girl with a guy, right? I mean, how'd you know you liked Jesse?” 

                _Because my dad did_. “He’s sweet. The kind of guy everyone wants.”

                She crinkles her nose, “sounds boring. Have you ever been with a girl before?”

                The heat in her cheeks spreads all over her face, “n-no.” Oh my God, did Beca seriously just ask that?   

                Grinning, Beca says, “come on, you need a drink. You look like you need to cool off.”

                “Oh,” Chloe shakes her head, clearing the fog. “I didn’t come here to party.”

                "Um...what? Why did you come to a _party_ then?”

                “Because you invited me,” Chloe smiles softly, hoping her face looks open and accepting. “Jesse thinks this is your way of reaching out.”

                “Reaching out? For…what?” Beca asks, dragging out the words. Her expression turns to one of disgust. “I invited you because I wanted you to party with me.” She laughs, loudly, like any other reason would be ridiculous. “Now, come on, let’s get drunk.”

                “Beca, I don’t drink.” It’s not the complete truth. She drinks wine sometimes, but only when it’s a special occasion, and only when her father gives her his approval. 

                Beca blinks, the gleefulness on her face drops. “What? Like at all?”

                She nods, and Beca leans her head against the door, shutting her eyes. Chloe’s gaze lingers on the bony column of Beca’s throat. She's filled with the sudden urge to run her fingers down it. Then she shakes her head.

                Beca groans, sounding like she's in physical pain.

                Feeling a twinge of worry, Chloe asks her if she’s okay.

                “No.” Beca clenches her jaw, looking like she's having an internal battle with herself. “I’m not okay. You know, I actually did have a reason for inviting you here."

                "And what is that?" Chloe asks, slowly.

                "To fuck you--" Chloe's heart stutters, Beca's eyes blaze with impatience and frustration "--I have to fuck you before the 23rd or I have to have a threesome with a girl I’ve known since I was in daycare and my best-friend-slash-worst-fucking-enemy,” Beca mumbles, cracking one eye open.

                “Are you being…serious?” A hysterical giggle escapes her lips.

                “I’m never going to lie to you about threesomes, baby.”

                Chloe blinks. Once Beca’s words settle in, feelings of hurt, being played, and seriously creeped out crash through her. She remembers Aubrey’s words in the library, _some sick move in their messed-up game of chess_ , and she feels enraged. 

                Stomping up to Beca, Chloe raises her hand and slaps her hard in the face. Beca grins, blood dripping from her lips. Bile and shame rise in Chloe’s stomach, she's never hit anyone before. But at the same time, her heart is sinking. Beca really is this messed up. The rumors are true, she is a salacious bitch.

                And suddenly Chloe remembers why she avoids people like Beca at parties: She’s spellbound by them.


	5. Beca Mitchell

**Sunday, October 4th**

 

                “So, how did it go?” Tom asks, sitting down next to Beca in the pew all the way at the back of the church. Vanessa, Scott, Jesse, Chloe, and the rest of the Beale’s are sitting in the second pew from the front. The other town’s people are scattered in between, building a barrier between good and bad. 

                “We’re in church, Tom,” Beca whispers, rolling her eyes.

                “And?” Tom chuckles, he looks every bit the church boy in a white oxford shirt tucked into perfectly pressed khakis. “We both know that no amount of repenting will save our asses. Nothing but the fiery gates of hell awaits us when we die. The real question is: Did you get to touch your own fiery red gates Friday night?”

                Beca laughs into her fist. Then she sighs and shakes her head. Replaying her stupidity in the storage room at the party. “She slapped me.”      

                Tom gapes at her, “what, like…during sex? Wow, I didn’t think she’d be into that kind of stuff.”

                “Not for sex.” Beca hits his stomach with the back of her hand. “It was after I told her about the bet.”

                “Oh, fuck,” Tom laughs. “Should I call Stacie now? Or are we going to pretend that you still have a chance at winning this? What the hell were you thinking?”

                “Well, I was planning on getting her drunk, but she doesn’t drink. Like at all. Then I kind of lost patience. I’m used to girls and guys just wanting me. I’ve never had to be the seducer before.” Beca laughs at herself. “It was sexy as hell when she slapped me though.” She bites her lip, thinking of the fury in Chloe’s eyes. It lit things inside Beca that no one ever has.

                “Jesus, I feel bad for you. I really do.” Tom grins, not meaning it at all.

                “How was _your_ Friday night?” Beca asks, flipping the attention on him.

                Tom rolls his eyes, “one word: Vanilla. I was basically sleep fucking her. Then she had the nerve to ask me for my number.”

                “Oh, my--how dare she?” Beca puts her hand to her heart, feigning shock.

                “Right?” Tom shakes his head, smiling wryly. “Do I have to slash Chloe’s tires or something for busting your lip?”

                It’s pathetic and if Tom knew he'd make fun of her but at his words, her heart warms. “No, save that for when she tells Jesse what I did.”

                “She hasn’t yet?”

                “No, I’m surprised. She was really mad. I figured that would be the first thing she did, but Jesse talked to me  perfectly fine this morning.” It was really weird. Beca had expected to see her stuff thrown onto the front lawn, and the locks to have been changed when she got to the Swanson's, but neither of those things had happened. The entire night, she waited for something, literally anything but it never came. No one said or did anything.

                “Know what that means?”

                “That she’s waiting until my life starts to spiral so that she can kick me when I’m down?” 

                Tom frowns, “what the fuck? No. It means she liked it. Or by some miracle, you. I’d say the-girl-next-door is longing for something other than her perfectly heterosexual relationship with her perfectly heterosexual boyfriend.”

                "Yeah, I really doubt that." 

                Tom slings his arm over Beca’s shoulder, getting a disapproving look from an old woman in the row across from them. She’d probably go into cardiac arrest if she knew what they were talking about. “Okay, so truth is, Chloe’s probably repulsed by you. I just figured I’d give you some fake ammunition to get your drive kicked up again. You can’t let one failed attempt turn you off though. You’ve got to take that anger and let it fuel you into getting what you want.”

                Beca sneers, “real profound, dude.” Tom gently tugs a lock of her hair. “Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?”

                Tom narrows his eyes, “you just want to sic Vanessa on me.”

                “Obviously,” something about mandatory Sunday dinners made Beca’s aunt so much more unbearable. “And, Chloe will be there too, so, well, you know.”

                “Sure, I’ll come,” Tom shrugs. “Vanessa’s a total MILF anyway.”

                Beca rolls her eyes, “I’m sure Jesse would love to hear what you think of his _mother.”_

                They bust up laughing and people turn to glare disapprovingly at them. Nothing new. Tom ducks down to grab a water bottle from beside him. He uncaps it and takes a sip before holding it out to Beca, “hey, want some water?”

                Beca takes it, swallowing a huge gulp. An acrid smell tickles her nose and the bitter taste of a strong alcohol fills her mouth. She manages to forces it down her throat before she chokes, it burns all the way. She glares at Tom, who’s gone red from trying to keep his laughter in. “Dude, what was that?”          

                A mischievous grin forms on Tom's lips, “only the holiest of drinks.”


	6. Chloe Beale

**Monday, October 5th**

 

                Monday after volleyball practice, Chloe’s sits at a booth in the Blue Roof Café waiting for Jesse to arrive. It’s been three days since the party and keeping what happened a secret is eating away at her. She had tried to for Beca’s sake but ever since Sunday dinner with the Swanson’s – sitting across Thomas and Beca exchanging “pleasantries” while Jesse’s hand rested on her lap – she decided she just couldn't anymore.

                “Hi, welcome to the Blue Roof Café.” A tall waitress with honey-blonde hair says, smiling brightly. She’s wearing a blue apron over a white polo, and a visor with the Blue Roof logo monogrammed on it. “My name’s Stacie, how are you doing this afternoon?”

                Chloe automatically smiles back, “I’m okay. How are you?”

                Stacie tilts her head to the side, “I’ve asked that to over twenty people since the start of my shift, and you’re the first to ask me back. I’m doing fine, thanks for asking.”

                “No problem.”

                “Can I get you something to drink?” Stacie asks, flipping her notepad open.

                “Not just yet. I’m waiting for my boyfriend.” Chloe checks her watch. 5:16. “He should be here any minute.”

                Stacie’s smile stretches. She slides her notepad and pen into the front pocket of her apron, places her palms flat on the table to lean in. “Ooh, is this a date?”

                Chloe wishes it was. “Not really, I just have something I need to talk to him about.”

                “That sounds...bad.”

                Chloe shakes her head quickly, realizing how what she said had sounded like. “Oh, no, I’m not breaking up with him. It’s just not exactly the most romantic conversation either.”

                Stacie nods, taking her palms off the table. “Well, I hope it works out.”

                Sighing, Chloe looks around the café. It’s a small building that's ninety-five percent wood. Everything including, the floor, tables, the booths aside from the blue leather cushions, the counter and the walls. The other five percent is made up of windows. The whole place has a homey feel to it, especially in the winter. The Blue Roof’s peak hours are immediately after school or Saturday nights. Right now, the only other people here are an elderly couple a few booths down from Chloe.

                “Wait,” Chloe blurts out before Stacie can leave. “Could you help me out with something?”

                Stacie pauses, then turns around. “Sure, what do you need?”

                “A third-party unbiased opinion.”

                She slides into the spot across Chloe, hooking her palm under her chin. “I can give you that.”

                Taking a deep breath in, Chloe tells Stacie everything. The note in her locker. The rumors she’s heard about Beca. Thomas. The party. The bet. The sliver of attraction she felt. Sunday dinner. The guilt she feels. Everything. Stacie listens, and besides her lip twitching up slightly at the corner when Chloe tells her what the bet entails, her face remains perfectly neutral.

                When Chloe’s finished, she asks Stacie what she thinks of it all.

                Stacie taps one long finger against her cheek. “This girl is fifteen?”

                Chloe nods, biting her lip. She left names out of the story on purpose.

                “Sounds like self-destructive behavior to me,” Stacie says this like she knows. Like she herself has been through this before. Or maybe she knew someone self-destructive, someone, like Beca.

                Chloe decides she trusts Stacie’s opinion. After all, what reason does a stranger have to lie about something like this? “So, what do I do?”

                “Hold off on telling your boyfriend.” Chloe opens her mouth to respond but Stacie talks over her. “You have nothing to feel guilty about. Okay, so you found her attractive for a moment but you didn’t do anything about it, right?” Chloe nods. “Well, then there you go. No reason for you to feel guilty. Look, I don’t know you and you don’t have to do this, but maybe you should try to help this girl out. It’s clear that she needs it.”

                “She doesn’t want my help!” Chloe complains, thinking about the way Beca reacted when she told her that Jesse thought that the note was her way of reaching out.

                “Don’t tell her you’re trying to help her. Don’t try to fix her, that’ll just backfire on you. You should just…be there. Do nice things with her, or for her, without being obvious about your intentions. It sounds to me like she needs a positive influence in her life.”

                “And you think I can be that for her?” Chloe asks because for the first time in her life she’s not sure of herself.

                “You need to decide that for yourself,” Stacie says, standing up from the table.

                “Wait,” Chloe licks her lips. “Thank you. And um, how do you—I mean you sound like you know what you’re talking about. I don’t mean to pry but—”

                “I’m a psychology major.” Stacie answers, then she turns towards the entrance. “I think your boyfriend’s here.”

                Chloe looks over her shoulder to see Jesse walking over to her. His face is flushed. He stops in front of her and kisses her long, and apologetic. Chloe pulls away, “you’re late.” There’s no heat behind the words.

                “Sorry, Chloe,” Jesse says, the creases on his face makes her believe him. “Beca got into it with my mom for cutting class and I had to play referee. Forgive me?”

                Chloe softens, of course, his reason would be something noble. “You’re forgiven.”

                Jesse kisses her once more before taking the spot where Stacie was sitting.

                Stacie smirks somewhat knowingly at Chloe, “let me know when you two are ready to order.”

                “Jesus, I didn’t even see you standing there,” Jesse says, putting his hand on his chest. “Um, we’ll probably need a few minutes. Thanks.”

                “Sure thing.” Stacie saunters off after giving her a meaningful look.

                Jesse turns his eyes back to Chloe, “so, what did you need to talk to me about?”

                Chloe closes her eyes for a second. Why is she hesitating? This is what she does. She volunteers at the soup kitchen during winter break. She bakes for the church’s charity fundraisers. Her father’s a police officer. Her mother’s a veterinarian. It’s in her blood to help people.

                Opening her eyes, she says, “you know what? It’s not even that important.”

                “Are you sure?”

                “One-hundred percent.”

  


 


	7. Beca Mitchell

 

**Tuesday, October 6 th **

 

                “So, why do you need this again?” Jesse asks, giving Beca a black wireless camera that’s about an inch and a half wide, and two inches long.

                “An assignment.” Beca lies. Taking Tom’s advice, Beca’s letting her first failed attempt to bed Chloe fuel her. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had succeeded the first time anyway. There wasn’t a camera in the storage room which meant there was no proof.

This time she’s going in prepared.

Still, it is kind of aberrant asking Jesse for a camera that will be used as confirmation in a sex-bet involving his girlfriend, but who else could Beca have asked besides the movie geek who spent a month of summer in a documentary film workshop _for_ _fun_?

                “Really?” Jesse asks, sounding intrigued. “What’s it about? Maybe I could help you.”

                “It’s just…boring stuff.” Beca rifles through her brain for something that seems plausible, but also boring enough to put off her cousin. “I have to monitor a…n ant hill. Track their movements. Like I said, boring.”

                “What class is this for?”

                Beca fights the urge to roll her eyes, “biology. It’s extra credit.” Wanting to change the subject, she rolls the camera between her fingers. “How does this thing work?”

                Pointing at the camera, Jesse starts to explain every single inch of the thing. “That thing there is for charging the camera. That’s the speaker—”

                Beca shakes her head, “no, I mean how do I see what it records.”

                “Oh, that’s easy. Give me your phone for a second.” Beca slides her phone out of her back pocket of her jeans, unlocks it with the touch ID, and hands it to him. For a few seconds Jesse taps around on the screen with his lip between his teeth. “Turn the camera on.”

                Beca clicks a button on the top right corner making a tiny green light flash underneath her fingernail. “I think it’s on.”

                Jesse taps some more, then he holds up Beca’s phone. On the screen is her tattered, once-white Vans, Jesse’s jean clad thighs sitting on his desk chair, and the dark planks of wood beneath them.  “Pretty cool, right? It’s 720p, hope that’s good enough for your Bio teacher.”

Beca shrugs not knowing or caring what that means. All she really cares is that Tom will be able to see the video clear enough to make out both her and Chloe’s faces. Or if he’s really lucky, hear Chloe moaning her name. “Can I connect this to more than just my phone?”

                “Yeah, just sync it through Bluetooth.”  

                With her mind stuck on the mental image of Chloe sweaty and panting underneath her, she mumbles ‘thank you’ and turns to leave.   

                “Beca?”

                Something about Jesse’s voice makes Beca freeze with her feet at the threshold. “Yeah?”

Her backs to him so she squeezes her eyes shut as she thinks through the possible scenarios that could happen, knowing that if he accuses her, she’ll vehemently deny everything. _He knows that I’m not actually in biology. He overheard me and Tom talking about the bet. He knows what I was think—_

                “It’s good to see you actually _trying_ in your classes.”

                Beca’s whole body relaxes, she nods before quickly escaping to her bedroom, and shutting the door behind her. Before the guilt of hearing Jesse’s voice ooze with pride can settle inside her, Beca opens her phone to text Tom to let him know that the bets not off until she’s got two fingers knuckle deep inside Chloe Beale, but stops when she sees one new message from Stacie.

                **Had a pretty interesting conversation with a redheaded Chloe at work yesterday**

Clenching her jaw, Beca wonders what the odds are that there are two redheaded Chloe’s in Barden. Sighing, she texts back: **How much of a chance do I have at winning this thing?**

Stacie’s reply comes when Beca’s just about to fall asleep. **That depends.**

Beca rolls her eyes. **On what?**

**If sympathy fucks count or not.**


	8. Chloe Beale

  **Wednesday, October 7 th **

 

           Mrs. Swanson opens the front door looking exasperated, she pushes a lock of dark hair from her face and gives Chloe a brief smile. Chloe smiles back trying to pretend like she didn’t just hear all the muffled curse words being shouted a few seconds ago. “Hey Mrs. Swanson, how are you?”  

          “I’ve had better days.” She laughs mirthlessly. “Jesse’s at the Applebaum’s tonight, didn’t he tell you?”

          Chloe fiddles with the strap of her backpack, the only reason Jesse’s at Benji’s is because she had told him that she was going to be hanging out with Aubrey after school. Another lie. It’s true what they say: Once the first lie is out the second and third become easier. “I know. I’m actually…would it be okay for me to talk to Beca?”

          The tips of Mrs. Swanson’s ears go pink. “It would be okay for you to _try_. Come on in.”

          Leaving her shoes on the porch, she follows Mrs. Swanson inside. Eyeing the stairs, Chloe asks, “is she in her room?”

          “Darling, are you sure you want to talk to Beca right now? We could have a cup of tea and catch up instead?”

          Shaking her head, Chloe gives Jesse’s mom an apologetic smile. “Can I get a rain check?” When Mrs. Swanson’s face falls, Chloe quickly adds. “It’s just that it’s coming up a year since Jesse and I started dating and I’ve gotten to know you and Mr. Swanson so well, but I don’t really know Beca. I’m hoping to change that.”

          “You have such a big heart.” Mrs. Swanson says, sounding a bit choked up. “Jesse got lucky with you.”

          Chloe’s so touched by the compliment that all she can do is smile, and when Mrs. Swanson heads towards her home office, Chloe takes it as her cue to go upstairs to Beca’s room. Which even if she didn’t know the Swanson house so well, she could have picked out purely based on the music that’s so loud it’s vibrations rattle the door.

           Even though she knows Beca won’t hear it, Chloe knocks a few times anyway. Taking a deep breath, she twists the knob and pushes the door open. Inside, the walls are light blue and empty of any pictures. There’s a desk pushed against one wall that’s cluttered with paper, coffee cups, a laptop, and a huge stereo. There’s clothes on the floor and Beca. She’s sitting cross legged, leaning against her canopy bed with a water bottle that Chloe doubts actually has water in it in her hands.

          “Hey, Beca!” Chloe shouts over the music.

          Ice-blue eyes flick up to meet hers. Beca just stares with a slight crease between her eyebrows for a long time before picking up a slim black remote beside her and clicking something. When the music stops the room feels emptier. “Wrong room. Jesse’s not here.”

          Chloe swallows, feeling a sudden wave a nervousness flood through her. “I’m here for you. _Because_ of you. I wanted to talk. I think we maybe got off on the wrong foot.”

          Beca smirks. “I think our issue is that you didn’t get off at all. But if feet are your thing, I could get you off with mine.”    

          “Beca,” Chloe says, keeping her voice light. “I’m dating your cousin.”

          Beca shrugs, and stands up. Her hair looks like she just rolled out of someone’s bed and her joggers are torn at the knee. She walks closer to Chloe and Chloe doesn’t move because she can’t move. “I’m not asking you to date me or love me or even like me. That you can save for your boyfriend. It’s just…I know Jesse’s waiting ‘til marriage.”

          “I’m okay with that.” Chloe whispers, staring at Beca’s nose instead of her eyes.

          “Don’t you ever get…horny? I’m mean, dude, we’re fucking teenagers!” Beca rolls her eyes, probably at her choice of words. She steps closer. And it gets harder and harder for Chloe to remember why she came here in the first place. “I’m just saying, don’t you want someone to take care of you _all_ the way?”

          “You’re doing this because of a bet.” Chloe says, mostly to remind herself. A bet she made because of her need to be self-destructive. Beca needs positive, nice things. She doesn’t need more sex, or alcohol or Thomas. And she definitely doesn’t need Chloe to so easily give into her advances.      

          “Doesn’t mean that you won’t enjoy it.” Beca smiles, arrogantly. “I’ve gotten some really, really good reviews.”

          The very tip of Beca’s nose touches hers.

          Chloe’s resolve comes apart again. She presses her fingernails into her palm, trying to ignore the way her stomach performs a perfect back handspring. It’s not even the fact that she thinks what Beca’s saying is hot, it’s the huskiness of Beca’s voice and the lustful look in her half-lidded eyes. It’s the tantalizing rush of doing something so wrong with someone so bad.

          Squeezing her eye shut, Chloe tells herself again that she’s here because Beca needs help. She tells herself that she has a _boyfriend_. But reason doesn’t seem to work so she resorts to the one emotion that’s still functioning through this Beca induced fog. Anger. “Look, Beca, I’m _trying_ to give you a chance here. I came here because I want to be your friend. _Only_ your friend. So, take this offer and be my friend or continue to be a complete jerk and I’ll tell my dad and he’ll make sure you stay the hell away from me.” Chloe doesn’t want to be the kind of girl who always runs to her police-officer-daddy when things get tough. And she’s not, but if that’s what it’s going to take for Beca to get the hint then she’ll do it. 

          Beca leans back a little, the intensity of her stare lessening. “Come camping with me.”


	9. Beca Mitchell

                Is Beca pissed that she has to sink as low as having pathetically boring sympathy sex just to win a bet? Yes. Is she going to tell Tom that that’s how she won it? Obviously not.

                She spent all day coming to terms with the fact that she isn’t sexy and charming enough to nail Chloe without pity being apart of it. And when her ego started to physically hurt, she called up Tom and begged him to get her some of the moonshine shit they drank in church.

                Tom delivered, Vanessa got pissed, and then Chloe showed up.

                Beca’s seen girls in lingerie, she’s seen and touched girls that were completely naked, but _nothing_ has turned her on quicker than Chloe in tight jeans, and a burgundy sweater that just outlined the cups of her bra.

                Just like that, sympathy went out the window and Beca gave seduction one last shot. Only, Chloe didn’t seem to like her full-on approach, and when she threatened to bring Officer Beale into it, Beca knew she had to pull back.

                Stupid fucking sympathy route it is.

                “What?” Chloe asks, blinking in confusion at Beca’s request.

                “Come camping with me.” Beca repeats herself. “You want to be friends, right?”

                Chloe nods slowly.

                “Then come camping with me.” Beca says. She walks back to her bed and plops down on it. “Tom and I are spending the weekend up in the sticks. Usually we share a tent but he can bring his own.” _And then_ we _can share one._

                Chloe’s bright blue eyes pierce Beca, “this isn’t some sort of trick, is it?”

                “Of course not.” Beca lies. Fucking obviously it was. Her and Tom weren’t going _camping._ What were they ten? But Beca’ll ask and Tom will say yes, and anyway there are always good parties up in the boondocks.

                “What I said, it’s not an empty threat. I _will_ tell my dad.” Chloe says, crossing her arms.

                Beca smiles, Chloe is so incredibly hot when she’s got anger burning in her eyes. “If you don’t trust me that much, you can bring Jesse.” She says knowing Chloe won’t.

                Chloe shakes her head, walking closer and leaning against the bedpost closest to Beca. “I’ll go with you as long as you promise me that you won’t try to come on to me.”

                Beca nods but doesn’t promise.

                “I’m really trusting you here.”

                Stopping herself from rolling her eyes, Beca says, “ _okay_ , Chloe.”

                Chloe blinks twice, and then sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. “…You called me Chloe.”

                Beca makes a face, “that’s your name.”

                “I know, it’s just…I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say it.”

                Oh, vomit. As hot as she is, Chloe’s such a movie cliché. No shit Jesse likes her. Beca doesn’t know how to respond in a nice way so she stays quiet until Chloe says, “I should go. Can I have your phone number? So I’ll know exactly when to meet up with you and Thomas.”

                Beca unlocks her phone and throws it to Chloe. “Don’t go through it and don’t text me emojis. I _will_   block you.”

                Chloe laughs, it’s light and genuine. It’s the kind of laugh that crinkles the corner of her eyes and the bridge of her nose. Beca tries not to stare but it’s kind of really fucking beautiful. Great, now who’s the movie cliché?

                Chloe places Beca’s phone back on the bed and then waits for a moment, looking like she’s trying to decide something. Then she shakes her head and says, “see you.”

                Beca listens as Chloe says goodbye to Vanessa and watches her car pull out of the driveway. She gets off her bed, chugs her moonshine finished, and calls Tom.

                He picks up one second into the first ring. “What’s up?”

                “Do you want to go camping this Saturday?”

                “Camping?” Tom laughs, deep and rumbly. “Where? The boonies?”

                Beca nods, then remembers she’s on the phone. “Yeah.”

                “So, what, just you and me?”

                “You and me…and Chloe.” Beca explains how he’ll probably have to bring his own tent but will most likely benefit from it after they hit up the parties. Tom never leaves one empty handed.

                “So, will you be getting some from Chloe?”

                “That’s the plan. Will you come? You’ll probably get front row seats.”

                Tom’s quiet for a minute. “Hell yeah, I’ll come. I _love_ live theater.”


	10. Chloe Beale

**Saturday, October 10 th **

 

               “It’s this way!” Beca yells, reaching over Thomas and jerking the steering wheel to the left. The Jeep swings sharply around the bend and Chloe has to reach out and grab the back of Beca’s chair to keep from smacking into the window.

                Thomas laughs and slaps Beca’s arm.

                After taking a few deep breaths to calm her wildly beating heart, Chloe grinds out, “what the hell?!” through her teeth.

                 “He was going to miss the turn.” Beca says, shrugging. She turns in her seat and her eyes drop to Chloe’s hands that are still fiercely gripping the chair. “Shit.” She laughs lightly. “You were scared.” She reaches out running her index finger over one of Chloe’s knuckles that’s turned white.

                Chloe shivers and jerks her hand away, “Beca—”

                Smirking, Beca raises her hands in surrender, “that was completely innocent.”

                “We’re here.” Thomas announces pulling into a roped off parking lot. “We have to hike the rest of the way up. Think you can handle that princess?”

                “Excuse me?” Chloe snaps, because if she can handle cardio with Aubrey, she can handle this hike. Plus, she finds it offensive that one, he’s just assuming she can’t do it, and that two, he’s using the term ‘princess’ as an insult.

                “Calm down,” Thomas says, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I was talking to Beca.”

                Beca just laughs and flips him off.

* * *

 

“Watch where you swing that thing!” Thomas grunts, reaching out and grabbing the tent pole that, because he’s down on one knee, nearly takes his eye out. Beca turns around looking angry for a second, then her features soften and she gives him a slow, goofy grin that’s so unlike anything Chloe’s ever seen her do, but to which Tom just rolls his eyes at.

                Chloe feels a flutter of jealousy, not because she wishes Beca was grinning at her – although, she does wish that, _platonically_. But because of how easy the two of them get along. Beca’s got all these hard edges and spikes designed to keep people out, and Tom gets past them so easily that Chloe can’t help it wonder how he does it. What connects them?

                “It’s so fucking cold.” Beca complains, her sweater is thin and so worn it’s almost see-through. Her face is flushed and she keeps wiping her nose on her sleeve.

                Chloe smiles because it’s kinda cute. “Do you want my jacket?” She’s been checking the weather for Saturday all week so she had the foresight to bring a windbreaker.    

                Thomas stops his tent assembling and looks at her, then raises his eyebrow at Beca.

                Beca makes a face, “it’s pink.” But when Chloe hands it up to her from her spot on the ground, she takes it anyway.              

                By the time, Thomas finally gets both tents up, it’s four o’clock in the afternoon, and the sky’s the color of Beca’s eyes. Thomas goes into his tent and Beca sits against the tree next to Chloe’s, pulls her legs up to her chest, and shivers. She’s so skinny it’s not surprising that even with Chloe’s jacket, she’s still cold.

                Chloe takes this lull in activity to take in her surroundings. She’s lived in Barden her whole life but because her father warned her not to go, she’s never once been anywhere near the boondocks. It’s beautiful now that she’s in it though, with it’s dark, earthy dirt, and tall trees. Some of them with winter green pines and others with leaves that are red, and yellow, and orange in color. And entwining everything together, are streams of crystal clear water that snake through the entire woods like veins in the human body.

                Thomas comes back with two bags of popcorn. “Because we’ll be busy tonight.” He winks at Beca. “I figured we’d get story time out of the way.” He tosses one bag to Beca. “I only bought two, so you and Chloe have to share that.” He turns to Chloe and she stops herself from crossing her arms over her chest when his eyes travel all over her body. “It’s extra butter.”  

                Rolling her eyes, Beca rips open the bag’s seal and shuffles closer so that Chloe can reach it too. When she puts her hand in, Beca does to and their fingers bump against each other.

                “Okay, Chloe first. Tell us about your daddy. Beca _loves_ him.”

                “You know my dad?” Chloe asks, looking at Beca in surprise. Her father _always_ shares his stories from work but he’s never talked about Beca before.

                Beca shoots Thomas a glare, and pulls her fingers out of the bag. “He arrested me once.”

                Fighting to keep her jaw off the ground, Chloe asks, “really?”  

                “Yeah, Tom dared me to spray paint ‘I love tits’ on his squad car.” Beca smiles, nostalgically. Chloe gives her an incredulous look. Beca shrugs, “he was asleep on duty. Served him right.”  

                Now it makes sense why her father didn’t share that story.

                Thomas starts describing what happened in detail but Chloe can’t pay attention because Beca bends her head upwards, and Chloe’s gaze fixes on the column of her throat. And when Beca swallows, Chloe blinks feeling a tug in her stomach and looks away. Thomas catches her eye and smirks knowingly.

                Blushing, Chloe stands up. “I’m going to go call Jesse.”

                “Be careful.” Thomas says, dragging the stick through the dirt. “There are a lot of crazy people in these woods.”

                Beca turns her head away from the sky and looks at Chloe, “but don’t worry, you’re already camping with two of the craziest.”

                Chloe walks past a few large trees trying to find an area with decent cell service. When she does, she’s far enough away from Beca and Thomas that they can’t hear what she’s saying but close enough that she can still see them.

                “Hey, babe. Miss me already?”

                Chloe smiles, picking at the bark of the tree she’s leaning her shoulder on. “You know it.” Although, she hasn’t really. “I just wanted to call and say we got our tents up. Well, Thomas did, anyway.”

                Jesse laughs. “How was the ride up there?”

                “Good.” Chloe says, even though she spent most of it feeling like Jane Goodall observing monkeys in their natural habitat.

                “This is so weird.” Jesse says. “It’s like your undercover in a notorious, top secret gang or something. What’re they like…I’m mean I know what Beca’s like but what’re they like when they’re together?”

                Chloe looks at them between the trees. Thomas is saying something and Beca flips him off. He keeps talking so Beca digs her hand in the dirt and chucks a fistful at him. They both laugh, and Chloe beams. “They’re actually not so bad.” Well, Beca isn’t anyway.

                Jesse laughs, “they’ve brainwashed you already.” Somebody calls his name in the background. “Babe, I’ve gotta go. If you need me to come down to get you just shoot me a call, okay? I love you.”

                “Okay,” Chloe mumbles, her eyes still glued on Beca and Thomas. She's already hung up the phone before she remembers she didn’t say I love you back.


	11. Beca Mitchell

                Chloe _actually_ believes that Beca wants to be her friend and Beca’s less pissed about it then she thought she would be. It _is_ kind of annoying that all her advances are immediately friend zoned but it also allows her to touch Chloe whenever she wants. Not _wherever_ but Beca’s hoping that’ll change soon.

                The biggest disadvantage about this whole thing though, is that by the time the sun has set, and Tom’s ‘story-time’ is over, and her and Chloe’s finger-fucking – and by that she means, there fingers rubbing against each other in the privacy of their greasy popcorn bag – ends, Beca’s horny as hell and Chloe’s showing no signs of putting out.

                Thankfully – just before Beca completely loses it and shoves her hand down the front of her pants – Tom announces that it’s “party time bitches!” Then rips his shirt off and disappears into his tent.

                Beca hides her smirk at Chloe’s distressed look. “We’re going to a party? Out here?”

                Switching on friend-mode, Beca leans in so close that her lips brush Chloe’s ear when she says, “dude, don’t look so worried. Just tail me, I’ll keep you safe.”

                Chloe bites her lip and Beca fights off a smile. She’s figuring out pretty quickly that Chloe is actually really easy. That all she needs is some nice words and strategically used sex appeal to get her panting.

                Tom comes out in a salmon-pink polo, and the three of them follow the trail that leads deeper into the woods. Halfway there, Chloe slips her hand in Beca’s and Beca fights the urge to simultaneously gag and grin like an idiot.

                The area filled to the brim with drunken teens is lit up by tiki torches. Luke, the British college boy that’s hosting the party pushes through the crowd and shoves a beer in both Beca’s and Tom’s hands. His eyes fall on Chloe. “And _who’s_ this?”

                Chloe’s grip tightens on Beca’s hand, “I’m Chloe.”

                “Chloe, hey? Never seen you before. Would’ve remembered if I had.” Luke sneers. “Oh, Beca, I’ve told them to hold off on the bonfire. I know how you feel about those.”

                Beca bristles, she won’t think about it. She _can’t_ think about it. She feels Chloe’s eyes burning into the side of her face wanting to know about it.

                Tom shoves him, “fuck off, man.”

                Luke laughs, “I’m kidding. Chill! Enjoy the party! There’s lots of girls, if you’re not already married to that one.” He says, nodding his head toward Chloe.

                Beca rolls her eyes, dragging Chloe off to the drink table.

                “Who was that?” Chloe asks.

                “Luke.” Beca keeps walking, squeezing through hoards of sweaty bodies. People spot her and say things like, _Hey, Beca! Where’s the fire?_ Or _You’re looking as delicious as always._ Beca grits her teeth and ignores them all.

                “Why do people keep talking about fire?”

                “Who knows.” Beca says, pouring vodka and orange juice into a cup then handing it to Chloe. In her peripherals, Chloe frowns confused. Beca wants to down the whole bottle but she has to stay sober just in case Chloe changes her mind and decides she wants to have sex with her. “Here, drink this.”

                “I don’t drink.”

                “A tiny sip won’t hurt. Come on just try it.”

                Chloe stares at Beca for what feels like forever. She hesitantly raises the cup to her lips and takes a sip, immediately scrunching up her nose. She puts the cup down on the table. Beca smiles, the tension she felt at Luke’s comment melting away. “Be careful with everyone here. There not…good people.”

                “You seem to know them pretty well.” Chloe says.

                “Exactly my point.”

* * *

                Beca’s spent the last half-hour leaning against the tree, making eyes at a hot blonde who absolutely refuses to make the first move. If she wasn’t on Chloe-Watch, Blondie would be on her third orgasm right now. _Chloe_...Beca looks around. _Oh, shit._ _Where’d she go?_

                Scanning the area, Beca spots her in conversation with one of Luke’s friends, Ryan. He’s taller than her so he’s bent over practically drooling on her. Chloe seems completely oblivious, she twirls her hand around and smiles as she talks.

                When he places a hand on Chloe’s arm Beca stomps over. “Hey, Ry, what’re we talking about?”

                “Um,” he blinks like an idiot, removing his hand.

                “That’s what I thought.” Beca grunts.

                “Right, like you’re such a nun.” Ryan says, before stumbling off toward some other girl he can grope without being interrupted.

                Beca starts walking away only to be pulled back around by Chloe. She’s angry and Beca bites her lip to keep from groaning with need. “What do you think you’re doing? I can take care of myself.”

                “I’m sure you can.” Beca mumbles. _But wouldn’t it be more fun if_ I _did it_ for _you._ Beca starts to smile, but it drops off her face when she sees the cup in Chloe’s hand. “Where the hell did you get that?!”  Beca asks, snatching it out of Chloe’s hand.

                “Ryan gave it to me.” Chloe says, her eyes widening a little. “It’s just coke.”

                Beca seethes, is Chloe really that stupid? “Dude, I told you not—did you drink any of it?!” She dumps the liquid into the dirt beside her, splashing some of it onto her joggers and the front of Chloe’s jeans in the process.                   

                “No!” Chloe crosses her arms over her chest. “I was—you were busy ogling girls, and I got…I was bored.”

                “So, what? You thought you’d go and get yourself drugged!”

                “I’m not that stupid!” She huffs. “Why do you even care? Why don’t you just go stop that blonde girl you keep eye-fucking from getting an STD instead?”

                Beca stops. She runs a hand through her hair. _Oh baby, you’re jealous._ But before that thought can really settle in, fear like she’s only felt once before seizes through her. “You could’ve been raped.” She steps closer, tucking a strand of Chloe’s hair behind her ear. Chloe closes her eyes. Beca runs her thumb across her cheek, her heart rate picking up. “Jesse’s going to kill me.” It’s so quiet, that Beca can’t even tell if she said it out loud.

                Chloe hears it though, her eyes pop open, the guilt in them visible even in the dim tiki torch light. “Beca…”

                Beca sighs, “yeah, whatever.” She leaves Chloe rooted in her spot and storms off in the direction of the blonde. There’s so much need in her that she has to do _something_ or she’ll explode. When she gets to her, all Beca has to say is, “want to fuck?” and the girl ditches the boy she’s grinding on and follows her back to the tent.

                Right before they enter the tent, Beca catches Tom’s eye, and says, “keep an eye on Chloe.”

                Tom waggles his eyebrows and gives her a thumbs up.

* * *

 

                Beca waste no time, she pulls Blondie’s crop-top over her head, and shoves her jean shorts along with her lacy thong down her long, tan legs. It’s a little difficult being in a tent but Beca doesn’t care.

                “God, you’re so hot.” Beca groans.

                Blondie grins, pulling Beca down for a kiss that’s all wet lips and hot tongues. She breaks the kiss to pull Beca’s sweater over her head. Then she attaches their lips together again while untying the drawstrings on Beca’s joggers.

                When Beca’s pants are off, they immediately start to grind against each other. Blondie crosses her ankles around Beca’s back, and Beca grinds harder into her, their wetness coating each other. They’re both grunting and moaning so loudly that Beca doesn’t hear the tent’s zipper being pulled down.  

                Then someone screams. And it’s not Blondie.

                Beca’s and Blondie’s head swivel at the same time toward the entrance. Beca’s heart drops to her stomach at the sight of the person standing there with a shell-shocked expression on their face. _Fuck._ “Chloe…”

                In a whirl of red hair, Chloe spins around and takes off in the opposite direction of the party.

                “Fuck.” Beca rests her forehead down against Blondie’s. “You’re really something, and I hate leaving people unsatisfied, but that girl—she’s…important.” Beca sighs, moving away.  

                Blondie gives her a sympathetic smile, “s’that your girl?”

                Shaking her head, Beca puts her sweater back on. “No, she’s my cousin’s.”

                “Sounds complicated.”

                Beca laughs, “you have no idea.”

* * *

 

                Beca looks everywhere before finally finding Chloe by the pond, surrounded by the sound of crickets and the soft swaying of wind against water.

                “What’re you doing out here alone?” Beca asks. “Tom wasn’t lying, you know. There really are crazy people in these woods.”

                “Well, I guess this is where I belong then.” Chloe does this weird laugh-sob thing that makes Beca’s heart twist. “Because, I feel… _so_ crazy.” She looks over her shoulder, fallen tears glistening on her cheek. “I mean I have to be.”

                “What do you mean?” Beca would take a step closer but she has a feeling she wouldn’t be welcomed.

                Chloe spins around, glaring. “You don’t give a fuck about anyone, do you?”

                “What?” Beca laughs.

                “Just when I was starting to think you were all right.” Chloe wipes at her eyes. “You had to go and ruin it by sleeping with someone.”

                At first Beca doesn’t know what to say, then she gets angry. “I don’t get you at all! You get all pissed because I’m honest and I say I want to have sex with you, and then when I try to be your friend, you get angry because I have sex with someone else?! What the hell do you want from me?!”

                “I want this.” Before Beca can react, Chloe flings herself against her and they both fall onto the ground. Beca’s loses her breath but she can’t catch it because Chloe’s lips are moving against hers. The kiss – they’re first ever kiss – is full of anger, and hunger, and fear.

                Beca’s kissed a lot of people in the past year alone. Even her kiss ten minutes ago was really good but _nothing_ has _ever_ felt like this one. All the others felt like reckless fun, this one feels like it means something.

                Wrapping her arms around Chloe’s waist, Beca pushes her tongue into Chloe’s mouth, pressing it against hers. She has never wanted to melt into anybody more in her life than she does right now.

                Then the kiss starts to taste salty, and as much as Beca wants to continue, as easy as it would be, her moral compass finally decides to start working again. She gently pushes Chloe away. Chloe stares down at her with wide, watery eyes. Beca wipes the tears off her face with her thumbs and whispers to Chloe that she should go back to the tent.

                Chloe nods, and Beca can’t resist the urge to press one more kiss to her lips.

                Her knees shake when Chloe kisses back.

* * *

 

                Beca rips open Tom’s tent to find him fucking a brunette girl who’s moans sound like somebody from a low-quality porno. “Thomas Alastair Matthews, the doctor said you’re supposed to wait until _after_ your clap’s all cleared up before you have sex again.”

                The girl’s eyes pop open, and she shoves Tom off her. “What the fuck?!”

                Tom shakes his head, pulling up his shorts. “She’s lying.”

                The girl sits up, she looks at Beca then Tom, then back to Beca. She pushes her skirt down, pulls her underwear up and shoves past Beca. When she’s gone, Beca laughs so hard tears stream down her cheeks and her ribs start to hurt.

                “Why’re you here?” Tom asks, sounding tired. He flops down on his back over his sleeping bag. “Other than to cockblock me, obviously.”

                “I think you know.” Beca spits out, her anger coming back full throttle. “You told Chloe to go back to the tent. You wanted her to see me with someone else.”

                Tom laughs, “So what?”

                Beca glares.

                “Oh, come on, Beca. Just because I said I’d come camping with you, doesn’t mean I’m going to sit on the sidelines and let you win the bet. I still want that threesome.” Tom sits up, sticks his hand in his backpack and takes out the third bag of popcorn. 

                “You fucking made her cry!” Beca growls.

                His eyes glint with something that makes Beca’s stomach twist anxiously. “ _That’s_ what pissed you off? Not the fact that she probably never wants to come within ten feet of you again.”

                Beca inhales through her nose, “will you just fuck off? The whole point of this bet is to prove that I can get Chloe _on my own_.” He doesn’t need to know that Stacie helped a bit. Or about the kiss. “I still have thirteen days to try and win this bet. Leave Chloe alone. It’s _my_ job to fuck around with her, not yours.”

                “Sure thing, princess.” He winks, popping a kernel into his mouth. 

                Beca sighs, “she didn’t go near Ryan while I was gone, did she?”

                “Ryan? No, why would she?” Tom tenses. “That guys such a fucking creep.”                

                “She was talking to him before.”

                “You told him off, right?” Beca nods and Tom relaxes. “I’d kill him if he did anything.”

                Her and Tom do a lot of morally questionable things but they’d _never_ sink as low as drugging people just to have sex with them.

                “You’d have to wait in line.” Beca says. They stare at each other for a while. There’s something really sad in Tom’s eyes so Beca says, “you can do much better than that girl by the way.”

                Tom smiles, “no, I can’t.”

                Beca laughs because she thinks he’s kidding.

* * *

 

                The ride back to Barden is quiet, everybody seems to be in a somber mood. Chloe won’t look Beca in the eye, and too make it even worse Tom won’t either. Which is weird because they’ve gotten into worse fights before and have had not-hate-sex on the same day.

                When they pull into the Swanson’s driveway, Chloe unbuckles her belt, shoots out of Tom’s Jeep, and flings herself into Jesse’s arms the same way she did to Beca by the pond. She starts to cry, and Jesse hugs her tighter and says, “you must have really missed me.” Which only makes her cry harder.

                Vanessa glares at Beca like she knows that Chloe’s crying because of something she did. Her uncle Scott ruffles her hair, and says, “it’s good to have you back from the wilderness.”

                Beca says, “it’s good to be back.”

                But what she really wishes, is that they never left.


	12. Chloe Beale

**Sunday, October 11 th **

 

                “You what?!”

                Chloe drops her head in her hands. After spending hours making out with Jesse but only being able to think about Beca, she made up an excuse about catching up on homework, and left the Swanson’s house as fast as she could. She wandered around a bit, thought about going to Aubrey’s but then ended up in a booth at the Blue Roof café, venting to Stacie about her camping trip with Thomas and Beca. Or as Stacie knows them T and B.

                Chloe releases a breath, “all day she was being really sweet. Then I was talking to this guy, and she was genuinely worried about me. I could hear it in her voice, see it in her eyes. Then she slept with that blonde. And…I was jealous. I told her to be my friend, I threatened to involve my dad if she kept coming on to me, and then when she was just doing what she was told, I kissed her.”

                “You _kissed_ her?!” Stacie hisses.

                “I don’t really know how it happened.”

                “I do! You’re lips touched her lips! That’s how it happened!” Stacie whisper-shouts, her eyebrows raised so high they nearly touched her hairline.

                Chloe blushes, “that’s not what I was talking about.” Her kiss with Beca, as scary as it was, it was also kinda perfect. Even with all the circumstances. Beca seemed to just _know._ Like she knew when Chloe wanted her tongue or to back off for a second when Chloe needed air. Sure, she felt scared, but she was also really aroused. The kiss had made her embarrassingly wet. She’s kissed Jesse for hours and haven’t felt half as much as she did in those few minutes with Beca.

                And more important then that, when Beca kissed her, she didn’t feel like she was just a part of some bet. She felt something, and she felt even more when Beca wiped her tears and told her to go to sleep.

                Stacie smiles, there’s fondness in her eyes. “It wasn’t just a kiss to you.”

                Chloe bites her lip, “I don’t know what it was.”

                “Are you curious to find out?”

                “I have a boyfriend. And a reputation to keep up. My dad arrested B once,” Chloe laughs, sardonically. “You know how much trouble I’d be if I broke up with a sweet boy like Jesse for someone like Beca?”

                Stacie shakes her head.

                “A lot.” Chloe answers. “I’d be in a lot of trouble.”

                “You didn’t say no.”

                Chloe scrunches up her eyebrows, “what?”

                “You didn’t say no,” Stacie repeats herself. “I asked you if you’d want to find out if that kiss with B was more than just a heat of the moment thing. You made up excuses about why you shouldn’t, but you didn’t say you couldn’t.”

                “Those aren’t excuses.” Chloe argues, tearing a napkin into two. “That’s my life! The life I can’t throw away for a fifteen-year-old with a God-complex. You know, I wish I could be like her. I wish I could just sleep with someone, or kiss someone and not lose a wink of sleep over it. I wish I could walk around the way she does, without a care in the world.”

                “You don’t wish that.” Stacie says. “That kind of life is really lonely.”

                “B doesn’t seem to mind it. She seems like she’s always having a good time.” Chloe says, picking up another napkin and twisting it with her fingers.

                “To me it seems like B’s just using people to fill a void.” Stacie says. “Self-destructive. Didn’t you say she lost her parents?”

                Chloe nods, “I don’t know how though.”

                “Maybe the way she acts has something to do with that.”

                “If that’s the case, shouldn’t she be pushing away _everyone_. Her and T are practically attached at the hip!” Chloe says, doing her best to keep the jealousy out of her voice.

                “Maybe there’s a reason for that. Maybe you two just need to talk. Just ask her these questions yourself.” Stacie suggests, leaning back against the blue cushion. “Preferably in a public place, where you’ll be less tempted to maul her.”

                Chloe frowns.   

                Stacie reaches out and squeezes her hand, “that was a joke.”


	13. Beca Mitchell

                At around lunch time on Sunday, Beca's phone chimes with simultaneous texts from both Tom and Chloe. She’s surprised either of them are texting her at all after how they left things a couple of hours ago.

                She opens Tom’s first. **It’s Amelia’s birthday.**

Beca blinks, _oh, shit._ That’s why he was… _shit._ She texts back, **I’ll be there in ten minutes.**

Getting off the bed, she opens Chloe’s. **Can we to talk sometime today?**

                Beca texts back, **Can’t**. Then she pulls a sweater over her head, shoves the lanyard with her house and bike lock keys on it into her pocket, and heads downstairs.

                “Where do you think you’re going?” Vanessa calls from the kitchen. “You just got home.”

                Beca clenches her jaw, her aunt has some sort of sixth sense for choosing the worst times to be a _real_ guardian. Thankfully it’s Sunday and Scott doesn't have work. He says, “oh, let her go out honey, she’s only a kid once.”

                Vanessa says something like, “I don’t think Beca will ever grow up.” And Beca takes it as her cue to leave.

                She grabs her bike out from the garage, rides down the driveway and out onto the street. It should be colder than it is today, but the sun’s out blanketing everything with just the right amount of heat. Leaves ripping off their branches at even the lightest of breezes.

                She makes a stop at a store real quick, then gets back on her bike.

                Her muscles ache from sleeping on the hard ground yesterday but at the same time it feels kinda good so, she pushes herself until there are tears in her eyes. She’s been this kind of messed up since the kiss. Her ego has been built up by the fact that she _is_ good enough to get Chloe. But on the other hand, she felt something, and she can’t just forget that she did.

                Beca pushes those thoughts out of her head, locks her bike along the fence, and starts down the path towards Tom. When she sees him sitting against a headstone with his eyes shut, she flashes back to the first time she met him.

* * *

 

                _Beca got past the bouncer, she doesn’t know how. Maybe the sadness she feels can only come with years of living a hard life. Maybe that’s what the burly man at the door saw when he had let her in. Maybe he thought that there was no way somebody this ruined hasn't even started her life yet._

_It’s already been five weeks since her parents died. The scars on Beca’s legs haven’t even healed completely yet. The scars in her memories? Those even the surgeons couldn’t fix._

_Beca goes to the bartender but there are so many people crowding the counter that she can't grab his attention. She just stands behind these guys who look like they golf on the weekends, and probably bang each other’s wives to spice up their lives._

_Then someone taps her shoulder. Beca turns around, already glowering. Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the boy standing in front of her. She recognizes him. He’s got a face you’d need amnesia to forget._

_“You’re Beca, right?” He slurs, looking tired. Or sad. He looks like Beca feels._

_Beca nods, “you’re Thomas. What’re you doing here?”_

_“I could ask you the same.” He hands Beca a beer. Beca eyes it suspiciously. “It’s not drugged or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. Honest.”_

_Maybe it’s because Beca’s well past caring, or the pain in his eyes, something makes Beca believes him. She reaches out and takes it. “Thanks.”_

_They sit down at table together. All around them are adults making fools of themselves. It just makes Beca feel sadder. Thomas loosens his tie and Beca realizes he’s wearing a suit. A fancy one too._

_“Did you come from a wedding or something?” Beca asks, taking a sip of her beer. She’s never drank before, but because she doesn’t want to seem like a total loser in front of Thomas, she manages to keep her face as still as possible at the bitter taste._

_“Funeral.” Thomas says, gulping down half his beer._

_“Oh.” Beca says, she knew she recognized his pain. “My parents died a month and a week ago.”_

_Thomas clenches his jaw. His eyes water and Beca looks away. “My baby sister died yesterday.”_

_Beca swallows, she’s doesn’t want to say_ I’m sorry _because she knows how unhelpful it is. “It’s unfair.”_

_“It’s her birthday today.” Thomas says. “If she lived one more day, she’d be six.”_

_“Do you want to buy a cake for her or something?” Beca asks, feeling stupid._

_Thomas blinks at her, he’s probably wishing he didn’t waste a beer on her. But then he says, “for real?”_

_Beca nods, “sure. We could buy the most expensive one, too. My parents left me all their money.” She's hurting so much already that the joke feels kinda good._

_Thomas gives her a sad, sad smile. “You can call me Tom, if you want.”_

* * *

 

                “You brought cake?” Tom asks, looking up at her.

                Beca smiles, “obviously. It’s her seventh birthday, why wouldn’t I?” She sighs. “I feel like a tool for not remembering. God, I even made you go camping.”

                Tom shrugs, “you had other things on your mind. Do you know what the one thing Amelia always wanted was?”

                Placing the cake down at Amelia’s headstone, Beca sits down next to Tom. “What?”

                “An older sister.” Tom laughs. “She would say, ‘I love you Tommy, but do you think mom and dad would get me an older sister for my birthday?’ Sucks that she got one _after_ she died, huh?”

                “Dude, I don’t think she’d like that you’ve slept with her older sister more than a few times.” Beca jokes.

                Tom screws up his face, “that’s so fucking gross.” He digs through his bag and pulls out two bottles of beer and hands one to Beca.

                Beca takes one and sips it and it goes down as easy as water, “cheers to Amelia! Happy birthday to the best little sister _we_ could ever have.”

                Tom laughs, “cheers.”

                Beca’s phone buzzes in her pocket. She pulls it out to turn it off but stops when she sees it’s a text from Chloe. **Monday after cheer practice then.** It buzzes again. **Please, Beca.**

**Okay.**


	14. Chloe Beale

**Sunday, October 12 th **

 

                “Times up Bellas!” Aubrey yells, clapping her hands. “Let’s wrap it up!”

                Chloe straightens out of her Scorpion position and Lilly and Jessica who’re the bases holding her up, set her down. “Good work today, girls!” Chloe tells them because Aubrey never does. Aubrey sometimes tells the Bellas that they’re getting better or that they're are mediocre, but never good. She thinks this will make them work harder for next practice but Chloe disagrees. Chloe thinks it’s good for their morale to hear that they’re actually doing well every once in awhile.  

                “Hey Ginger, you coming to get ice cream with us?  Bellas bonding time?” Amy, the Australian transfer student, asks.

                Chloe gives her an apologetic look, “sorry, Amy. I already have plans. Next time though for sure.”  

                Amy nods, and leaves the football field in a group with the rest of the Bellas. Aubrey comes up beside Chloe and hands her a water bottle. “Are your plans with Jesse?”

                Chloe swings her gym bag over her shoulder before graciously taking the bottle from Aubrey. She untwists the cap and takes two long swallows. “With Beca, actually.” As soon as she says it, the nerves that she’s been pushing back all day, surge through her full force.  

                Aubrey’s eyebrows shoot up, “really? Didn’t you just go camping with her?”

                “We’re friends.” Chloe lies, but only because she doesn’t know what her and Beca are. _Are_ they just friends? Does kissing a ‘just friend’ feel as good as it did when she kissed Beca? _She_ kissed Beca, Chloe still can’t quite believe it.

                She sighs and Aubrey mistakes it for reluctance, “are you doing this to win over the Swanson’s? You know you don’t have to, right? Because from what my mom tells me, Jesse’s parents absolutely adore you.”

                “It’s not that.” Chloe says.

                Aubrey nods, “I’m going to get a shower at home.” They stop at Aubrey’s Volvo, and she throws her bag in the trunk. “Then I’ve got some juniors to tutor. Where are you meeting Beca?”

                “At my locker.” Chloe says. “I should get going.”

                Aubrey gets into her car and rolls down the window, “call me if you need anything.”

                Chloe smiles and waves when Aubrey drives off.

* * *

 

                Chloe’s heart skips a beat when she gets to her locker and sees Beca sitting against it. Beca doesn’t notice her because she’s got clunky, black headphones over her ears and has her eyes shut. Chloe bites her lips admiring Beca in her plain black sweatshirt and jeans that—surprisingly—aren’t ripped.

 _Does she know she’s beautiful? Does Thomas tell her that she is?_ Chloe shakes her head and takes the ten steps to her locker. She crouches down and taps Beca’s shoulder.

                Beca’s eyes shoot open, the annoyed expression on her face quickly turns into a lecherous one. “Wow. You… _wow_.” Her eyes unabashedly trace Chloe’s body, it’s just like Thomas’s did multiple times on Saturday, but this time Chloe doesn’t cross her arms over her chest or turn away. “You should wear that…like, always.”

                Standing up, Chloe blushes and looks down at her cheer outfit. It’s a skin tight, white and burgundy long sleeved crop-top, and today, instead of putting on the matching skirt, she decided to wear spandex shorts to practice. In hindsight, maybe she should have changed before meeting the fifteen-year-old who has repeatedly asked to fuck her. In hindsight, maybe she didn’t on purpose.

                Beca stands up, taking off her headphones and letting them hang around her neck. “So, you said you wanted to fuck?”

                Chloe’s stomach flips, “you mean _talk_?”

                “Isn’t that what I said?” Beca asks, smirking.

                “Beca,” Chloe sighs. “I’m being serious.”

                The brightness in Beca’s eyes dull a bit, “okay, fine. Are we talking here?”

                Biting her lip, Chloe looks around. School has long been over and besides kids in after school clubs or sports teams, the place is deserted. They could talk here or… “we could talk in my car?”

                Beca shrugs, “whatever you want.”         

* * *

 

                “Sweet car.” Beca says, her eyes examine every inch of the interior of Chloe’s antique, white, Volkswagen Beetle.

                “Thanks.” Chloe smiles. “My dad got it for me at a police auction.”

                “Dude, really?” Beca’s eyes bulge. “So, this could have belonged to a hardcore criminal?”

                “Probably not, but it could have been repossessed from a minor felon.” Chloe says, running the finger over the white banjo steering wheel.

                Beca deflates a bit, “less cool, but still…pretty cool.”

                 Chloe laughs, then takes a breath. “How were your classes today?”

                Turning her head towards the passenger side window, Beca mumbles, “I didn’t go.”

                “Why not?”

                Beca shrugs, “is this what you wanted to talk about? My school habits? Because if it is, you don’t have to worry, Vanessa nags me about it _all_ the time.”

                “You don’t like living with your aunt and uncle?” Chloe asks, although she’s pretty sure she already knows the answer.

                “It’s not like I have much of a choice.” Beca’s looking at her now.

                Chloe decides to bite the bullet and just ask, “will you tell me about your parents?”

                “Why do you want to know?” Beca asks, immediately defensive.

                As soft as she can, Chloe says, “I like to get to know my friends.”

                Glaring, Beca shakes her head.

                “Please.”

                Beca’s eyebrows draw together and her knee starts to bounce up and down. Her hand slowly moves toward the door handle. Scared she might try to leave, Chloe reaches out and places a hand on Beca’s knee, it stops moving. Beca pushes air out through her nose, and closes her eyes briefly. When she opens them again, she says, “they weren’t anything spectacular.”

                Chloe rubs her thumb back and forth over Beca’s knee, but doesn’t say anything.

                “Um, my dad wasn’t really home that much. He was a lawyer like Scott is.” Beca shakes her head. “I guess my mom was nice. She was a kindergarten teacher for a bit then switched to grade 5. She was always reminding me to eat.”

                A smile appears on Chloe’s lips, “is that something you need to be reminded of often?”

                “Yeah.” Beca reaches down taking Chloe’s hand off her knee. She holds it palm up with her left hand, and traces Chloe’s fingers with her right thumb. “It’s kind of stupid, but when I was little I used to skip meals because I thought I’d miss out on something really cool while I was sitting in my kitchen eating. It didn’t matter because I never saw anything amazing, but the habit stuck.”

                “Who reminds you now?”

                Beca clenches her jaw, “nobody really. If I’m with Tom, I eat because he does. If I’m at the Swanson’s I usually forget to.” She rolls her eyes. “Except for on Sundays.”  

                “What about during lunch at school?”

                “When I do go, I never wake up early enough to make myself a lunch.” Beca shrugs, like it doesn’t matter.

                Chloe bites her lip, she doesn’t really know what she was expecting but it was definitely _not_ this. It makes her heart physically hurt. Who knew that Beca was carrying something like this around? It’s such a small thing, eating. If Chloe’s too busy coming up with routines for cheer, or studying for her classes, her mother lets her eat dinner in her room, but other times it’s always at the dinner table, and unless her dad stays at work late, it’s always with her family.  

                She can’t imagine eating alone, or not eating at all.

                “Chloe?”

                “Yeah?”

                “Will you give me a ride back to the Swanson's?” Beca asks, her voice is back to it’s usual dry, I-don’t-really-care tone, and Chloe knows she’s done talking about her parents. She doesn’t mind because what Beca _did_ say was more than she thought she was going to get.

                “Yeah, of course.” Chloe says.

                "Thanks," Beca says, leaning over and pressing the softest kiss to Chloe's cheek. 

               

             


	15. Beca Mitchell

**Tuesday, October 13 th **

 

                “Mrs. Lincoln?” Beca says, putting her hand up. Everybody swivels their heads in her direction. God, school’s such a joke. Thomas, who’s falling asleep beside her, lifts his head up and raises his eyebrow like, _What’re you up to?_ Beca just smirks like she’s going to pull some major shenanigan when really, she just wants out of class.  

                Mrs. Lincoln turns around looking instantly pissed. She always looks like that whenever Beca speaks out in class. Or maybe she just how she naturally looks all the time. “Yes, Beca?”

                “I need to go to the bathroom. Toss me a pass.” A few people snicker.

                Rolling her eyes, Mrs. Lincoln takes a pass from her desk and holds it out in front of her. “Go on then.”

                Hooking her backpack over her shoulders, Beca saunters up to the front of the classroom, takes the pass, and gives her teacher an overly gracious smile. “Thank you, Barbara.” She says in a dignified voice before spinning to face the class. “Everyone, give Mrs. Lincoln a round of applause for her _spectacular_ service as our History teacher. Come on everybody, up on your feet!”

                The football jerks – jocks – jump up, clapping their hands and wolf-whistling. After the footballers have started, the wannabe cool kids join in too. They climb on their chairs and clap loudly, probably in hopes of being inducted into _actual_ cool kid groups. Mrs. Lincoln’s face turns beet-red. At the back of the classroom, Tom sits up, his arms crossed over his chest. He shakes his head with a huge grin on his lips. Beca winks, puts the pass back on the desk, and ducks out of the classroom while Mrs. Lincoln tries in vain to refocus the class.

                Pulling her phone out of her backpack, she clicks Stacie’s name.

                When it connects, Stacie says, “Hello, you’ve reached the Hunter. Thirty bucks to touch my boobs. And an extra five to suck on them. One-hundred-and fifty for no penetration sex—kidding!” Static bursts in Beca’s ear as Stacie howls with laughter. “Hey you, how’re you on the phone right now? There’s an hour before school ends.”

                Beca chuckles, “it was an early dismissal.”

                “Mhmm.” Stacie says, obviously knowing better. “Why’re you calling me? Not that I don’t adore your voice or anything.”

                “I just wanted to tell you that you were right.” Beca gets to her locker and spins the combination. “I told Chloe a bit about my parents and she was a puddle in my palms.” She doesn’t say that she felt disgustingly warm touching Chloe and sharing memories that she didn’t even want to know that she still remembered so vividly. That feeling though, the warm one, it’s the same one she got and wishes she could forget about after their kiss by the pond.

                “I told you it would work.” Stacie says, smugly. “Did anything happen?”

                “I kissed her—” Stacie squeals. “—on the cheek.”

                “Oh. That’s still something though. The days are going by so quickly, and no offense but I _do not_ want to have a threesome with you and Tom.”

                “Dude, me neither.” She drops her bag on the floor by her feet.

                There’s a pause. Then: “Can I ask you something?”

                Shrugging, Beca says, “sure.”

                “Why didn’t you just go for it when Chloe jumped you by the pond?”

                Beca blinks, “she told you about that?” It was just a kiss, yeah, but Beca kinda wanted it to be something just her and Chloe knew about. She was glad, Chloe didn’t bring it up yesterday. She wants that memory to be untouched by anyone. Beca doesn’t even like to think about it too often herself in fear of her own thoughts ruining that perfect moment.

                “Yeah.”

                Beca rubs the left side of her face and lies, “my camera was still in the tent and Tom was busy fucking some girl. It would have been just like the storage room; no proof.”

                “Make sense.” But Beca knows Stacie and she can hear it in her voice that she knows it was just an excuse. She knows there’s another reason but she also knows Beca, and she won’t push her for what that reason really is.

                There’s a loud bang, and Beca spins around to see Tom vaulting down the hallway, his hair flying up with the speed he’s moving at. He doesn’t slow down when he gets to Beca, he just reaches out over her head and slams her locker door shut. “You better run! Mrs. Lincoln’s on the prowl!” He yells, flying past her.

                “What was that?” Stacie’s voice sounds from the receiver.

                Beca picks up her backpack, swinging it over one shoulder. “I gotta go. Talk to you later!” She hangs up and takes off after Tom.  

* * *

 

                “My dad is so going to kill me.” Tom groans, banging his head on the desk.

                “No talking.” The gym teacher, Mr. Donald says monotonously, from behind his desk at the front of the class.

                Tom glares at Beca accusingly.

                Beca rolls her eyes, “hey, I didn’t ask you to follow me out.” They’re attempt at escape ended up being pointless. Principal Bingham had caught them at the end of the hall and given them detention, benched Tom for the next few football games, and probably called their parents, being the dick that he is.

                “Did you expect me to just sit there while Barbara fucking Lincoln called you a delinquent that will never get anywhere in life?” Tom glares harder.

                Beca smiles, “she’s probably right.”

                “I said no talking.” Mr. Donald raises his voice a little but his tone remains flat. “Do you two need to be separated?”      

                Tom rolls his eyes, and goes back to banging his head against his desk. Beca doesn’t blame him, the worst she’ll get is more nagging from Vanessa, but Mr. Matthews is very capable of legitimately killing Tom.  

                Pulling out a piece of paper from her notebook, Beca writes, _1-800-422-4453 – hotline #._ She slides it over. Tom reads it and laughs. He pulls out a pencil, writes something, and then slides it back. _Dork._  

                Beca’s about to write back when a cheerful voice pours into the classroom. “Hey, Mr. Donald! Aubrey asked me to ask you if you had the keys for the equipment room.”

                Both Tom and Beca turn their heads toward the door at the same time. Beca bites her lip to keep from moaning. Tom’s eyebrows shoot up at the same time his mouth falls open.

                Chloe’s standing in the doorway in her cheer outfit, this time with the matching skirt that ends just below her ass. _God Bless Posen for making the Bellas practice three days of the five-day school week._

                “It’s in my office.” Mr. Donald says, leering at Chloe. Beca feels a flush of anger, then immediately feels ridiculous because it’s not her job to be jealous, it’s Jesse’s. “If you can stay here and watch these two, I can go get them for you.”

                Chloe looks into the classroom, like she’s only now noticed that there are other people in the room. Her eyes lock on Beca’s, disappointment flooding her clear blue eyes. “For sure.”

                Mr. Donald leaves, and Beca nudges Tom in the ribs—a little harder then necessary.

                “Ow!” Tom says, rubbing his hand over the spot where Beca jabbed him.

                “Dude, your staring at her like you’re a virgin…or a freshman or something.”

                “Call me whatever you want, have you _seen_ that?”

                “ _Her_.” Beca corrects, clenching her jaw. She wishes Chloe would leave so that Tom would stop looking at her the way that he is.

                “How have you not fucked her yet?” Tom asks, kinda loudly.

                Flinching, Beca peeks at Chloe but she doesn’t seem to have heard him. “Shut up.”

                “I thought you said she knew about the bet?”

                “She does, but that doesn’t mean I want to keep shoving it in her face!”

                “I thought I told you two to stop talking.” Mr. Donald says, entering the room. He hands Chloe a lanyard with keys. She takes them, thanks him, and then turns to leave. All eyes in the room are on her ass as she saunters away.

                “Fucking hell,” Tom whispers, there’s so much lust in his voice it makes Beca want to throw up. “After you fuck her, can I have a go?”

                Beca stands up abruptly, “can I go to the bathroom? Please? I can’t hold it in.”

                Mr. Donald eyes her, then relents. “Fine. Go. But you’d better be back in five minutes.”

                Nodding, Beca rushes out of the classroom after Chloe. She’s already halfway down the very empty hallway. Beca sprints to catch up with her, she reaches out and whirls Chloe around by the arm.

                “Beca-” Chloe starts to say something else but Beca doesn’t give her the chance. She pushes her up against the lockers and fuses their lips together.


	16. Chloe Beale

                Chloe kisses back for a sweet second, then gently shoves Beca away. “Beca,” she says softly, “What’re you doing?”

                Closing her eyes, Beca rests her head against the maroon colored lockers. Her chest heaves up and down. “Do you have any idea how _beautiful_ you are?” she asks between deep breaths.

                Chloe blushes. Jesse tells her she’s beautiful all the time but for some reason, hearing Beca say it makes her already rapidly beating heart, race. “You can’t just kiss me like that.” Literally _anyone_ could have seen them. And it’s not like Chloe’s some random, she’s an integral part of the community and everyone knows who her father is. She shudders thinking about what his reaction would be if he found out about this.

                Beca clenches and unclenches her jaw, “I know.”

                “Maybe we should talk about this.” Chloe says, reaching out and brushing a strand of chocolate-brown hair off Beca’s head. Beca shivers and Chloe’s eyes flutter at the force of her stomach cartwheeling.

                “There’s nothing to talk about.” Her eyes pop open, cruel and hard. It’s so different from the look flooding with all sorts of emotions one second before she had kissed her. “I just thought you looked really fuckable and thought, why the fuck should I hold back?”

                _She’s lying_. Chloe bites her lip. “I’m not mad that you kissed me. I mean, I should be. I have a boyfriend, that’s your _cousin_ no less, but I’m not. So, you don’t need to lie to me, okay?”

                Scoffing, Beca says, “I’m not lying.”

                “I think you are.”

                “Well, you’re wrong.” Beca glares down at her ruined shoes. They’re not the school regulated white ones and it makes Chloe smile because it’s just such a Beca thing to do. Put on every other piece of her uniform but not the shoes. Which Chloe, knows for a fact that she has untouched in a box in her bedroom.

                “Please, will you tell me why?”  _I need to know if it's just me who feels this way._

                “I already told you.” Beca insists.

                “Fine.” Chloe huffs, she’s not going to stand here and beg for an answer that she knows she won’t get. Besides, Aubrey will probably send a search crew for her if she doesn’t get back soon. “I have to go.”

                When she’s halfway down the hallway, Beca shouts, sounding frustrated. “Maybe put on a shirt before you prance around the halls next time. The guys here only think with their dicks.”

                _So, that’s why you kissed me._ Chloe grins, not bothering to turn around. _You were jealous._

* * *

 

                Jesse picks her up after practice. When he tries to kiss her, she turns her head and his lips end up on her cheek.

                “Everything okay?” Jesse ask, moving away from her.

                She feels instantly guilty, “yeah, I’m just all sweaty and gross.”

                Jesse smiles, “well, you know I think your beautiful no matter what.”

                He says it with so much love that Chloe wills her heart to beat faster or butterflies to erupt in her stomach, but nothing happens. She holds back a sigh and kisses his cheek. “Thanks, Jess.”

                Jesse talks about a movie he and Benji watched the entire way to the Swanson’s and Chloe’s grateful because she’s not in the mood to talk. She’s too busy worrying over what she’s going to do about her current situation. Every logical neuron in her brain says: _stay with Jesse. He’s safe and your dad loves him_. But the bewitched parts demand her to think: _think about how fun it was with Beca. Think about how amazing it—she felt. Think about how alive and wonderful she makes you feel, not how she’d make your dad feel, but_ you.

                When they get to the Swanson’s house, Jesse takes Chloe’s hand and they go upstairs. Just as they reach the top hallway, Beca opens her door, their eyes locking onto each other’s. Chloe’s heart pounds in her chest, as she watches Beca watch them. She runs her tongue over her teeth, whirls back around, and slams the door shut.

                “I feel like she gets more distant every day.” Jesse sighs. The genuine sadness in his voice makes Chloe want to cry.

                Beca doesn’t come down for dinner so after Chloe finishes eating and thanks Mr. and Mrs. Swanson for the meal, she excuses herself and goes upstairs to her room. She rasps her knuckles softly against the door, “Beca, it’s me.”  

                There’s nothing but the soft chatter from the dining room for what feels like a long time, then the door opens. They stare at each other for a moment. Beca's eye are hard and angry fpr a second before she sighs and says, “you can come in…if you want.”

                Chloe steps in, the room looks unchanged since the last time she was in it. Beca shuts the door and stands there looking down at the wood flooring. “You didn’t come down for dinner, aren’t you hungry?” Beca just stares so she keeps talking. “If you are, I could ask to bring a plate up here for you. Or if you don’t want spaghetti, I could take you out. Or—”

                “I was jealous.” Beca blurts out, her cheeks reddening slightly. “Tom and Mr. Donald and even fucking Jesse just now, they made me jealous. That’s why I kissed you. I just couldn’t…not.” Her shoulders slump forward.   

                Chloe forces herself not to smile. “I know. If you want me to, I can wear a sweater or something next time. I’m just pretty confident about my body.”

                “You should be.” Beca mumbles. “Um, and you shouldn’t have to hide your body. I don’t have the right to be jealous.”  

                “No,” Chloe whispers. “You don’t. And _I_ probably don’t have the right to be as thrilled as I am at hearing you tell me that.”  

                “I don’t know what happens now.”

                Chloe’s heart warms, Beca rarely looks as fifteen as she does right now. “To tell you the truth, I don’t either. I just know what’s going on between us is completely unfair to Jesse.” Her heart lurches with shame at the thought of him innocently waiting at the dinner table waiting for her to return.

                Beca’s face hardens in a blink of an eye, “there’s nothing going on between us.”

                “What the hell, Beca?” Chloe snaps, because she’s so shocked at Beca’s rapid mood swing. “You can’t be jealous about someone you don’t care even just a little bit about, Beca." She says, thinking about how she felt when Beca was screwing that girl in the Boondocks. "Why are you lying?”

                Beca says, “I’m not lying.” In a voice that convinces neither of them.

                Chloe exhales, tiredly, “okay, Beca, whatever you say. Will you please come find me when you stop lying to the both of us?”

                She doesn’t say anything, Chloe didn’t expect her to. She walks up to Beca, who’s clenching and unclenching her jaw, staring angrily at the floor. She presses a kiss to her cheek and whispers, “please don't forget to eat something, okay?”


	17. Beca Mitchell

**Friday – Saturday, October 16 - 17 th **

 

                Feeling like fucking Romeo, Beca picks a pebble from the garden in front of the Beale’s house and chucks it at Chloe’s window. She wouldn’t be doing this if she had her phone, but Vanessa took it away from her as punishment for getting detention. Actually, she wouldn’t be doing this _at all_ if Chloe hadn’t been avoiding her. With exactly one week left until the bet’s over, Beca refuses to just sit around and wait anymore.

                The curtains push apart and Chloe’s face appears in the window. It’s hard to tell if she even sees Beca at first, then the window opens and her head pops out into the crisp night air. “Beca? What’re you doing here?”

                “I’m here to rescue you.” Beca says sarcastically, then rolls her eyes. “What do you think I’m doing? Can you come down?”

                “My dad will kill me if I go out this late.” She doesn’t add the _with you_ at the end but they both still hear it.

                “I did not sneak out of my fucking house at one-thirty in the morning to get turned down!” Beca whisper-shouts. Chloe starts to move back into her bedroom so Beca swallows her annoyance and changes her tone. “Please, Chloe, I promise it’ll be worth it.”   

                There’s a long moment where they just stare at each other, and then finally Chloe says, “okay,” and Beca tries to pretend that she doesn’t care that she feels hurt by the reluctance in her voice.

                Five minutes later, Chloe comes out the front door, arms crossed over her chest, with slightly tousled hair, pajama shorts, and a Barden High sweatshirt.

                Beca bites her lip, checking her out. “You’re gonna freeze.”

                “I could go back and change.” Chloe says, her voice raspy from just having been woken up.

                “No.” Beca blurts out quickly. “Um, there’s no time. Come on.”

                Before Tom got his Jeep and after he met Beca, he attached a scooter saddle to his bike so that he could paddle them both around town whenever they would hangout together. After he got his licence the bike took up residence in the Swanson’s garage, and stayed there collecting dust until today.

                Beca swings her leg over the bike and releases the kickstand. “Get on.”

                “Where are we going?” Chloe asks, eyeing the bike suspiciously.

                “It’s a surprise…?” She answers, weakly. 

                “Beca.”

                Letting out a deep sigh, Beca says, “okay, fine. I’m, um–I’m ready to be honest.”

* * *

 

                Beca knows the exact moment Chloe sees the blanket surrounded by fake candles in the middle of the football field when the arms around her waist tighten, and a small breath of pleasure releases right next to her ear.

                “Is this for me?” Chloe asks in total awe, when Beca parks her bike by the bleachers.

                “No, it’s for Posen. I just took you all the way out here for your opinion. Do you think she’ll like it?”

                Laughing, Chloe shoves Beca’s shoulder. Then she slides her fingers down the sleeve of Beca’s sweater and tangles their fingers together. “This has never happened to me before!”

                “Dude, really?” Beca asks, surprised. “This seems like something right up Jesse’s alley.” It’s kind of the reason she did it.

                Chloe shrugs, as they make their way to the blanket. “His idea of a date is dinner and a movie. Or two.”

                Beca doesn’t say anything, the last thing she wants to talk about is Chloe’s dates with her cousin. She lets go of Chloe’s hand to lie down on the blanket, resting her head against one of the two pillows she stole off the white sofa in the Swanson’s basement. She pats the spot next to her and Chloe does the same.

                They’re on their backs staring up at the twinkling stars that Beca skipped school to read about just to impress Chloe – even though, it seems like she already has. She scans the sky looking for the constellations she saw on the space website. “Ooh, see that?” She asks, connecting the stars with her finger. “That’s Cepheus. He was a king put up in the sky by Zeus. It’s some long, tragic story full of death.” Beca laughs a little. “Guess me and Cepheus have that in comment, huh?” Chloe smacks Beca’s stomach, making her laugh a little more. “Okay, not funny. Um, so, I came to watch you cheer at the game today.”

                “You did?”

                Beca nods. She was only there so she could to set up her blanket and candles after everyone left but seeing Chloe in her cheer outfit was a huge bonus. “It was a massive turn on.” Her cheeks warm in a way they never have when she’s being crude.

                Chloe turns on her side, propping her head up on her elbow. Strands of her hair tickle Beca’s face whenever the wind blows. “Beca?”

                “Yeah?”

                “I really want to kiss you right now…but I can’t do that to Jesse.” Chloe flutters her eyelashes like she’s blinking back tears. “I think I need to break up with him.” She whispers it, but the words echo loudly in Beca’s ears.

                “I don’t know what you want me to say.” Beca clenches her jaw. Sometimes she wishes her emotions would just fuck off. Sometimes she wishes that she had it in her to just fuck Chloe and end this whole mess. “If Vanessa found out that _I_ was the reason you broke up with her perfect son, she’d kick me out of her house.”

                “She can’t do that.” Chloe argues. “You’re not eighteen.”

                “I don’t think she really cares. Vanessa’s never given a shit about me.”

                “What am I supposed to do then? Pretend like I want to be with Jesse?”

                “Up until recently you _did_ want to be with him.”

                “Up until recently, I didn’t know you were an option!”

                “Chloe,” Beca pauses, her heart stuttering in her chest. “I’m not an option. You and I both know that there are higher powers that won’t accept this. I mean, think about what your dad would do. That’s why I said that there isn’t anything between us. There can’t be, even if we wanted there to be.” _The best thing for both of us is to keep meeting in secret – and hopefully fuck within the next seven days – and then split. That way nobody’s else’s lives have to be uprooted, and twisted beyond repair. Except ours._

                Chloe sniffles then reaches out, and presses her fingers against Beca’s cheek. Her fingers are cold but soothing against her skin.

                “If you cry one more tear, I’m not even kidding, Beale, I _will_ leave.”  

                The threat does its job making her smile, “higher powers, huh? That’s kinda dorky.” Her voice is watery. “Actually, this _whole_ night kind of is.”

                “Oh, is it?” Beca smirks, kissing the edge of Chloe’s pinkie. “You must be rubbing off on me then.”

                “It’s okay though, I sort of really like it.” Chloe shuffles closer and rests her head against Beca’s chest. “Thank you, Beca. I’ve never done anything like this, it feels kind of unreal.”  

                Beca’s not sure what to say. Yeah, there are selfish reasons behind this night, but it still feels really fucking good to hear Chloe say that.

“What other constellations are up there?”

                “A lot.” Beca answers, running her fingers through Chloe’s hair. “I told you it’d be worth it.”

                “Hmmm?”

                “It was worth sneaking out with me.”

                “Oh.” Chloe murmurs, closing her eyes. “Totes.”  

                Beca smiles and shakes her head, the thought of _sleeping_ – no touching, kissing, grinding – just sleeping with Chloe is so far from what Beca thought she’d ever do. It’s so far from what she _wants_ to do, but still, she sets an alarm on her phone and lets herself just fall asleep. And she’s strangely okay with it.


	18. Chloe Beale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that some readers may not like this. I'm sorry, but I already planned how this whole story will go. There's twists that maybe people won't guess in the upcoming chapters. It gets pretty hectic from here, as you can imagine (or will, after you're done reading this). I'm not sure if everyone will like it, but I'm sincerely hoping you will. 
> 
> I've also added dates on the chapters. If there isn't a date that means it's the same day as the closest previous date. 
> 
> Sorry, for the late update. I'm in the middle of midterms. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Thanks for Reading!

**Tuesday, October 20 th – Wednesday, October 21st **

 

                “Beca?” Chloe manages through chattering teeth. Beca had texted her this time instead of throwing rocks at her window, but Chloe’s heart still beat as fast as all the other times. She could get used to this side of Beca. The sweet side. The side that only comes out in the rarest moments, trapped between thick trees, or tangled between scruffy sheets and stiff pillows in the middle of a football field. Or more recently, eating warm pizza in a lifeguard tower two towns over, and the newest addition, on the roof of their high school, way past school hours on a Tuesday night – probably very early Wednesday morning.

                “Yeah?” Beca shuffles closer and wraps one arm around Chloe’s waist, pinning her against the warmth of the generator without looking up from her phone.

                “How did you get keys to the roof?” Chloe asks, resting her head against the metal and soaking up Beca’s body heat.

                Beca taps something into her phone, then puts it in her pocket. When she looks up, her eyes twinkle with mischief. Chloe’s breath catches when she notices just how close they are. “I nicked them from Ruiz when I had to do time with him.”

                Chloe shakes her head, “you did time with the janitor?”

                “Yeah. It was punishment for hotwiring Principal Bingham’s car and, um,” she scratches her head, looking away. “Having sex in it.”

                “ _What_?!” Chloe laughs out of pure shock.

                “It’s only a misdemeanor. And Tom said I wouldn’t do it. I had to prove him wrong.” Beca says dryly, rolling her eyes.   

                “Like the bet.” Chloe realizes. The bet. God, they haven’t talked about that in what feels like a lifetime. She counts the days to the 23rd and bites her lip. “Two days left.”

                Beca releases Chloe and walks right up to the edge of the roof. It’s beyond dark out but the streetlights surrounding the school give the roof a bright enough glow that allows Chloe to track Beca with her eyes from where she is.

                Beca jumps onto the ledge and wobbles, her arms pinwheel but there’s not a hint of fear on her face.

                The saliva in Chloe’s mouth dries up. A tingly feeling shoots down her spine, spreading out to her fingers and getting permanently stuck in her feet. “Beca, what’re you doing?”

                “Relax, Beale.” Beca mutters, eyebrows drawing together as she regains her balance. “I’m not about to perform one of those handsprings Posen makes you do.” Pausing to look over her shoulder, Beca shakes her head. “Fuck, I didn’t think we were _this_ high up.”

                Chloe’s heart refuses to settle while Beca’s up on the ledge jiggling her foot like she doesn’t care that one half-step backwards will kill her. Leaving the warmth of the generator, she walks over to the ledge beside Beca. Their high school, apart from the church, is the tallest building in Barden and when she looks over, the whole world feels like its swaying.

                Beca says, “I can’t decide if it makes me feel really lonely or insanely powerful being up here.”

                “What do you mean?” Chloe asks, because she rarely gets the chance to pick Beca’s brain.

                “You tell me. Which one do you feel?”

                It’s an obvious deflection but Chloe answers anyway. “I haven’t had time to think about it. This is only my first time. And I’m up here, with you.”

                “That’s perfect, then. You don’t have to worry about memories being mixed in with it. It’s a completely pure feeling.” Beca crouches so that they’re almost eyelevel. “So, don’t think Chloe, and tell me which one.”

                But she’s wrong, because Chloe’s feelings are never pure when she’s around Beca. They’re mixed with adrenaline, and frustration, and the baseline hunger that’s been there ever since that night in the storage room.  “Powerful.”

                Beca smiles, “you’re really beautiful. Does Jesse tell you that?”

                “I don’t want to talk about Jesse.”

                Her smile widens. “What _do_ you want to talk about?” 

                Chloe sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, “will you give me a real answer if I told you?”

                There’s a minute of silence.

                Then: “Okay.”

                “What happened to your parents?” Chloe asks, slowly. Beca’s face remains blank. “You’ve told me things about you these past few nights, but you never talk about that.”

                Letting out a long breath, Beca sinks down so that she’s sitting, with her back facing the town. “I knew you were going to ask me that.” She pats the ledge beside her and Chloe joins her. “I’ve only really ever told Tom.”  

                Chloe takes her hand, entwining their fingers.

                “They died in a fire.” Beca’s voice is flat but with no other sound to block it, Chloe can hear the pain. Suddenly, she doesn’t want to know. She wants Beca to go back to bouncing on the ledge and smiling like they’re the only two people on the planet. “It was in the middle of the night so I was pretty out of it. My dad came into the room and shook me awake, he said something in the kitchen had erupted. When we went to check it out the whole second floor was covered in flames. It was hot like you’d never believe. He told me to wake my mom up, so, I ran back up and woke her up. And when I told her, it’s like something broke in her. She didn’t look scared or shocked, she look like she knew she was going to die and didn’t even care.

                “My room was the highest up so we stayed in there until the firefighters came. Then when they did come, they could only take one person at a time. My parents sent me out through the window first. They told me they loved me and that I made them proud, all that other bullshit. They told me that I was the only thing in their lives that made them happy and even the thought of me dying was unbearable. If they made it out and I didn’t, they’d be dead anyway.” Beca’s voice broke. “They didn’t think what it’d be like for me. Why would they? Before they died, the only friend I could talk to without being dead shy was Jesse. And that was only because he was my cousin and we grew up together. They didn’t think about any of that. They couldn’t predict the nightmares or the drinking. They didn’t think I’d turn out like this. But before the firefighter dragged me away from them, I told them I would.”

                _And you did._ Beca hasn’t been ignorantly self-destructive. She’s just been keeping the last promise she ever made to her parents.

                “Beca…”

                “Don’t say your sorry.” Beca says, angrily.

                There’s nothing Chloe can say to stop the hurt that’s shines bright in Beca’s eyes. She slides her index finger under Beca’s chin, and presses her thumb in the dip just below her bottom lip. Then Chloe tilts her face up a little, and their lips touch. Soft, simple.

                Beca doesn’t push for anything more. She doesn’t touch Chloe or move her lips. But when Chloe checks, her eyes are closed and her face is smoothed out into something serene.

Chloe pushes harder, opening her mouth, moving Beca’s lips with her.

                Beca reacts, she put hers hands up on Chloe’s face, they’re cold against her burning cheeks. She pushes her tongue into Chloe’s mouth. It’s warm, and wet, and gentle.

                Chloe shifts, moving closer and putting her legs over Beca’s thighs, without breaking the kiss. But with the new weight on her, Beca leans backward.

                Chloe’s heart stops.

                Everything stops.

                Then Beca rights herself, sliding her hands down to the back of Chloe’s thigh and standing up.

                “You okay?” She asks, huskily.

                “Perfect.” Chloe says, attaching their lips again.

                She doesn’t know anything but Beca’s lips, and tongue, and teeth, until her back’s being pressed against the warm metal of the generator. Beca let’s Chloe down, her feet touching the cement of the roof, the same time Beca slides the tips of her cold fingers under Chloe’s stomach, making her shiver.         

                “Beca.”

                Beca’s fingers freeze at the edge of Chloe’s bra. “Do you not want to?”

                Chloe sighs, “having sex isn’t going to fix the fact that you’re clearly still hurting.”

                “I’m unfixable. I have to carry this hurt. Me and it, we’re interchangeable.” Beca ducks her head, kissing Chloe’s neck. “If you want to help me, give me something else to carry.”

                “But Jesse…” It’s a losing battle. Chloe wants Beca and she can’t even deny it.

                Beca straightens up, “I don’t care anymore. Break up with him. Lie to him. Chloe, _please._ ”

                Their lips are back together only to be separated when Beca pulls Chloe’s sweater off, followed by her own. Chloe’s eyes fall on Beca’s black bra and flat stomach. She runs a finger down the ridge of her muscle, stopping at the button on her jeans.

                There’s something completely different shining in Beca’s eyes now. It calls to something primal in Chloe. She unbuttons Beca’s jeans. Beca’s fingers untie the knot in Chloe’s drawstrings with ease. She hooks her thumbs on the side of the waistband of her pants and underwear.

                “Let me?”  

                Chloe closes her eyes and nods.

                Beca eases them down slowly, goosebumps rise on her bare skin. Chloe’s not sure if it’s from the slide of Beca’s fingers down her side, or from the cold.

                She’s finally fully exposed. Beca’s seeing something no other person has. And when she slides her fingers over her, she’s touching things Chloe has only touched behind closed doors.

                “Is this okay?” Beca whispers, kissing Chloe softly.

                “Take your pants off too.” Chloe says, a bit embarrassed by her demand.

                “You don’t—”

                “Please.” It’s hardly fair for Beca to deny her.

                “Okay.” Beca takes her hand away from Chloe and slides her pants down her legs. “Anything else?”

                “Bra.” Chloe mutters, her eyes falling to the place between Beca’s legs. Heat stirs in Chloe’s stomach, and in between her own legs. When Beca’s bra’s off, Chloe says. “Mine too.”

                Then they’re touching, and feeling, and exploring.

                Beca’s mouth touches every inch of skin on Chloe’s body, and when they get to her center, Chloe’s hands tangle into her chocolate locks. Beca’s tongue is warm and doesn’t hesitate to dip inside and circle. She kisses, and sucks, bringing guttural moans out of Chloe, and at first, she tries to hold them back because she’s embarrassed, but when Beca only sucks harder, she lets them out freely.

                Abruptly, Beca pulls back and Chloe starts to whine, but it gets cut off by Beca’s lips. Her hands take the place of her mouth and Chloe can’t stop herself.  

                She touches Beca.

                Beca’s wet. But not like water, like silk. And it’s warm. Hot.

                “Fuck.” Beca moans. Her fingers thrust into Chloe, hard. For a second Chloe sees white and it’s a little uncomfortable, but mostly, it feels good. They mimic each other’s thrusts, grinding their hips and moaning in between wet kisses.

                Heat builds inside Chloe. Starting from her center and spreading out to her toes, all the way up to her ears.

                The tighter Beca’s muscles clench around Chloe’s fingers, the harder and faster Beca thrusts into her.

                Until finally, they go over the edge together.

                It’s almost too much for Chloe to handle, but Beca hasn’t stopped moving her fingers so, she keeps hers going inside Beca. They slow to a stop, Chloe’s muscles still twitching.

                Beca puts her fingers into Chloe’s mouth. It’s warm and salty. And Chloe likes it.

                Beca takes Chloe’s fingers, sucking them into her mouth. She kisses Chloe and their cum mixes in her mouth. And Chloe likes it even more.

                “Are you okay?” Beca asks.

                Chloe doesn’t know what to say.

                What _do_ you say when you’ve simultaneously done the best thing ever and made the worst mistake of your life?  


	19. Beca Mitchell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise all of the readers that Beca and Chloe will be together. They'll just be (a few, pretty huge) bumps along the way. 
> 
> Thanks for Reading!

**Wednesday, October 21 st **

Beca sneaks back into the Swanson’s just as the sun starts to leak over town. She strips her clothes, grabs her phone, and buries herself under her blanket. Unconsciously, her fingers curl tighter around her phone. Tomorrow, she’ll have to show Tom the recording. Their moment – hers and Chloe’s – will only truly be _theirs_ for a few more hours.

                She clicks Chloe’s name. **You okay?**

                Chloe’s reply is immediate. Almost like she was waiting for Beca’s text. **Nothing in life, goes as planned. And I think I’m learning to be okay with that. I think that that’s when things are the purest, the most untouched, unfiltered, the most real. My whole life, I’ve been what other people have expected me to be. But I feel like I’ve only ever had real moments with you, Becs.**

**To answer your question, I’m more than okay.**

Beca sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, faint hints of Chloe still on her lips and tongue. Just as a stream of sun spreads over the corner of her bedroom, Beca feels it. Stirring in her stomach, like something deep inside her trying to claw its way up. The same heavy darkness she felt in the hospital the day after her parents died; things were about to change.

                It feels like she’s only shut her eyes for a minute when Vanessa screams her name through the door. “Beca! Time for school! Get up!”

                Beca pushes her face deeper into her pillow.

                “Don’t even _think_ about cutting class!”

                Clenching her jaw, she sits up in bed. School’s never been important to Beca, but after everything last night, it seems even less so. It’s the thought of seeing Chloe again that gets her up, fully nude, and walking into her shower. She sighs when warm water hits her and the final remnants of the best sex she’s ever had, slips down her legs and into the drain.

                Drying herself off, Beca pulls on her teared joggers and a Barden High sweater that’s probably Jesse’s because she never bought one.

                Vanessa and Jesse are at the breakfast bar eating waffles when she gets into the kitchen.

                “Beca, you look terrible.” Vanessa says, gaping at her.

                “Gee, thanks.” Beca rolls her eyes, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

                “She’s right, Beca.” Jesse says, tilting his head up just slightly, eyes fixed on hers. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

                Beca uncaps the bottle, puts it to her lip and freezes. Coolness spreads through her body, goosebumps rising on her skin beneath her sweater. _He knows._ His eyes are still on her, she forces herself to swallow the gulp of water. It feels like needles going down her throat. “I’m going to school.”

                “Need a ride?” Jesse asks, with an edge to his voice.

                “What about breakfast?” Vanessa asks, completely oblivious to the tension in the room.

                Beca wants to scream, _when the fuck have you ever cared if I ate breakfast?_ But if she freaks out Jesse will know that she knows that he knows, then all shit will break loose, and that can’t happen in front of Vanessa. “No, I have to go.”

                "You're not in your uniform." Vanessa points out. 

                Swinging her backpack over her shoulder, Beca books it the hell out of the Swanson’s. She grabs her bike off the porch where she left it last night and peddles to school. In what twisted universe has school ever been her savior? 

                Tom’s waiting for her at her locker. “Hey--Woah, Beca. You look like shit.”

                “Why Thomas, you sure know how to make a lady feel good about herself.” Beca spits sarcastically, pushing him aside and twisting her combination in.

                “Are you on your period or something?” Tom asks, his eyes wide in genuine shock at her behavior.

                Beca doesn’t even bother answering his question. She tugs on her lock, but it doesn’t open. Gritting her teeth, she tries again. There are people scattered around the halls but none of them are close enough to hear what they’re saying. “Can you do me a favor and watch out for Jesse?”

                “Why? What’d you do?” His body tenses, protectively.

                Beca tugs her lock again and when it still doesn’t open, she punches the locker door. “Fucking bitch.” She hits it again, denting the metal underneath her knuckles. “How did he fucking know?!”

                “Know what?” Tom looks concerned now. “Beca, what the fuck did you do?”

                “I fucked Chloe.” She yells, a girl from down the hall flicks her eyes toward them. Beca bites her lip. Then quieter, she says, “I fucked Chloe, and Jesse knows.”

                Tom blinks, “you fucked Chloe?”

                “Yeah.” Beca sighs, her body sagging against the dented metal. “I won the fucking bet.”

                “Wait, you had sex with Chloe and then _told_ _Jesse_?”

                Beca narrows her eyes at him.

                “Okay, chill. I’m just confused. Was he there or something? How else could he—”

                It hits Beca then, how Jesse found out. “He watched it.”

                “What do you mean?”

                So their moment, that Beca so badly wanted to preserve untouched for at least a few more hours in her head, had never been just theirs to begin with. 

                “He watched it. I asked him for a camera to record me fucking Chloe.” Tom’s eyes widen. “I didn’t tell him that’s what it was for, you idiot. He told me it was Bluetooth, that I just had to connect it to my phone, and could watch the feed live while at the same time record it.” A shiver goes down her spine. “He must have had it connected to his phone. That sick son of a bitch.”

                “You really fucked Chloe.” Tom says, quietly.

                “Dude, keep up—” Beca stops, there’s something on Tom’s face she’s never seen before. But before she can comment on it, something behind him moves, rounding the corner comes Jesse.

Her blood heats up

“Did you get yourself off to it?” Beca spits out.

Jesse looks as pissed as she feels. “You have no right to be angry. You fucked _my_ girlfriend.”

Beca shoves up right against him. “Did you like it? I bet you did. I bet it wasn’t even Chloe that got you hard. I bet it was me. Did seeing your cousin naked turn you on, huh? Did you imagine m—” Hands clamp down on her shoulders and jerks her backwards.

“Beca, not here.”

Jesse says, “you stay out of this.” At the same time, she says, “it’s okay, Tom. I can handle it.” 

Grabbing Beca’s wrist, Jesse pulls her down the hallway and pushes her outside. They’re at the side of the school, by the portables. When he lets go, there’s a red imprint of his fingers that’ll probably leave a bruise.

“Does she know that you filmed her?” Jesse growls.

 Beca’s heart thuds in her ears. “You’re sick, you know, for watching us.”

Jesse laughs, “do you even know how hypocritical you sound right now? You could go to _jail_ for recording her. It’s called Stephanie’s Law. You could be listed as a sex offender, and you’re calling _me_ sick? I’m going to tell her. And she’ll tell her fath—"

“Shut the fuck up!” Beca shoves him. All she can think about is how the best few days of her lives after her parents died, have been with Chloe. She had actually been waking up in the mornings with something to look forward to. They crash against the sun stained yellow corrugated metal of the portable. “You’re not going to tell her anything.”

“So, she doesn’t know.” Jesse pushes her off him. “Why’d you do it, huh? To get back at me?”

“I don’t give a shit about you.”

“I did. I do. Beca, you need serious help.” Somethings switches in him and now he looks sincere, which just makes Beca angrier.

“If you really wanted to help me, you wouldn’t tell her.”

“There has to be consequences.” Jesse says, calmly. “You can’t keep doing stuff like this. You can’t live like this and think it’s okay just because you never get in trouble. Not really. You hurt me, Beca. And you’re going to hurt Chloe with that tape. What is it? Blackmail?”

“I would never hurt Chloe.” _But I have, and I probably will again._

“You already have.” Jesse says, echoing her thoughts.

“You don’t have to tell her.” Beca says, letting a pleading tone bleed into her words. Her gaze drops from Jesse’s brown eyes, down to the grass. “It was for a stupid bet. I’ll delete the video. It was, it was a one-time thing.”

“Oh my God.” Jesse whispers, under his breath. “You’re lying. Do you _like_ Chloe?” It’s an honest question. No mocking. He asks it the same way he used to ask how she was feeling that day, or how bad a nightmare was. Like he wants to know the answer because he genuinely cares.

“Fuck off.” Beca shoves him again. She raises her fist and brings it down against the metal, right by Jesse’s head. Her knuckles, already bruised from hitting her locker, split open, her blood staining the wall. That’s it. It’s dead before it even got a chance to bloom. Just like every good thing in Beca’s life. “Go ahead, tell her. I don’t care about her, or you, or anything. I don’t care if I go to jail. Hell, I wouldn’t give a fuck if a truck plowed me over right now. If you think this will change the way I am, you’re wrong. I can’t be fixed.”

Beca glares at him for a minute longer before running back into the school. There are more people now, she pushes right through them. She shoves the door open to the closest girl’s bathroom and collides with a soft body. For a freeing second, she stumbles backwards. Then a hand reaches forward and catches her wrist, straightening her out.

“Careful.”

Beca looks up, her body going rigid. “Chloe.”

“I was just thinking about you. This is going to sound so corny, but I missed you.” Chloe says, softly touching Beca’s cheek. “And I know that’s stupid, because I was with you a few hours ago, but I can’t help it. I only ever feel like me, when you’re around. And last night, just made me feel that even more.”

A scream hurtles up Beca’s throat but all that comes out of her mouth is, “I’m sorry.”

The last time she had ever said those words, was to her parents, half a second before the fireman dragged her out her old bedroom window.


	20. Chloe Beale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took me years.  
> I don't exactly know how I feel about it.  
> Let me know how you do though.  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> For those of you who thought Jesse's reaction was a bit unrealistic, I changed it up a bit. Hopefully this feels more real.

                “What’re you sorry about?” Chloe breathes, a bit dizzy after dropping from elated to worried so quickly. Beca looks agitated, her eyes are wide and bloodshot, her skin paler than normal. Something warm drips onto the palm of her hand that’s holding Beca’s. Letting go, Chloe gasps softly, her fingertips come away sticky and stained red. “Beca, oh my God. What happened to your hand?”

                Beca drops her gaze to the floor, her jaw clenching.

                Chloe shakes her head. She expected seeing Beca for the first time after last night to be a bit awkward, but not…this. Whatever _this_ is. She figured they’d talk about what happened between them. _God._ A shiver runs down her spine at the thought of last night. She had orgasmed three more times after her initial one. After the first, she was wary, but Beca had gone all tender, caressing her face, and whispering sweet words. Then they were all over each other again, and again, and again until the sun was threatening to peak, and they were forced to go home.

                Chloe had spent the hour of sleep she had dreaming about being able to see Beca again. 

                Turning on the faucet, Chloe rips some paper towels from the dispenser and sticks it under cold water. “Come here.” Slowly, Beca steps closer until she’s standing between Chloe’s legs. Leaning against the sinks, Chloe takes her injured hand, carefully dabbing the broken skin. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”

                Silence.

                “Beca, please.” Chloe presses a little harder on the cut making Beca hiss in pain.

                “I—it’s the bet.”

                Chloe’s heart picks up pace. She’s not completely stupid, she knew that them having sex meant Beca had won the bet. Which would mean Beca would have to tell Thomas. And, she won’t lie, it is more than a little strange knowing there’ll be someone other than the two of them that knows, but at least it’s over now. Not that last night felt like it was just about the bet at all. Okay, so, maybe the first time felt like doing it to get it done – in the best way possible – but the other times, those were slow and sensual, and _real_. “Beca, I know. I know you’ll have to tell Thomas. It’s okay. Just, maybe, leave out the finer points.”

                Beca laughs cruelly, pulling her hand away. “Do you really think Tom would just take my _word_ for it? Don’t you think that if that was the case I’d have lied to him weeks ago?”  

                “What do you mean? How were you supposed to win if he wasn’t going to believe you anyway?” All Chloe can think is: _no, Beca wouldn’t_.

                “I recorded us.”

                A disbelieving laugh bubbles out of her throat. A rumor would be the worse thing that could happen if Beca told Thomas about them having sex. Maybe it wouldn’t even get as far as that. No one would take Thomas’s word over hers. That’s what’s she’s been telling herself. That’s what’s kept her from freaking out last night on the roof after the first time. But with an actual _video_ out there in the world, she couldn’t deny it if she wanted to. What if someone she knows sees it? What if her _father_ sees it?

                Panic rises inside her. “Do you have any idea what will happen if the video gets out?”

                Beca’s face creases like she’s in pain, “…Jesse saw it.”

                Suddenly, the world falls away, and Chloe’s too slow to hold on to something. “Oh my God. Oh, my _God_. He saw it? Is that why your…did you punch him? Oh, God. Why didn’t you just _tell me_?”

                “You would have said no.”

                “Of course, I would have!” Chloe hits her in the chest. Beca doesn’t even flinch. “Are you insane?” She hits her again. “Are you that selfish that you would put winning a bet over my _entire_ life?”

                Beca eyelids flutter like she’s trying to hold back tears. “I didn’t think Jesse would see it!”

                Chloe’s torn between wanting to comfort her and kill her. There are too many things going on in her brain at once. The loudest thing is the voice telling her that’s she’s done for. That this is it. “I’m not ready. Beca, I _can’t_ tell my dad about this.”

                “You don’t have to. No one else has seen it. No one else will.”

                “Do you really think Jesse will just go back to being my boyfriend? I cheated on him. My dad will figure it out, and then what? I tell him what really happened? He’ll kill me! And what about you? What will Mrs. Swanson say, what will she _do_ when she finds out?” Every question forces her heart to run faster. She’s dizzy for a completely different reason than before.

                “I don’t care! I don’t care what happens to me!” Beca shouts. “I don’t care what Jesse says, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

                “Oh, Beca.” Tears well in Chloe’s eyes. She wants to feel comforted by her words, by the determined look Beca’s giving her, but she just can’t. She’s too scared. “I need to talk to Jesse.”

                “Why?” Beca asks, eyebrows drawing together.

                “I have to make him understand.”

                “You mean you need to keep using him.” Her eyes turn cold. “You don’t think I can keep you safe. You don’t trust me.”

                “Don’t give me that, Beca. I _trusted_ you last night.” Chloe spits out. “You took that trust and broke into a trillion little pieces. I need to go find Jesse before you do the same thing to my heart.”

                Before she can turn to leave, Beca grabs her hand and pulls her around again. “I’ve never been good at thinking things through. It was about the bet at first, but then the kiss by the pond happened, and I took you on those dates. And I—I fucking care about you, okay? In the last minute just before we, you know, it wasn’t about the bet, it was about you. Just you. You are the only thing that’s been on my mind for days. I didn’t think about Jesse being able to see us, or what would happen if the video somehow got out. I know this doesn’t make up for anything, but, I don’t know, I guess I just thought you’d rather I slept with you than with Tom and Stacie.” Beca’s eyes go wide, every drop of blood falling away from her face.

                Chloe blinks. “Stacie _Conrad?”_

                “I didn’t—”

                “Don’t lie to me, Beca.”

                She sighs. “Yes.”

                Chloe’s blood heats up. It feels like someone lit a match in her heart, instead of pumping out blood, it bleeds out fire. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? I knew you were trying to win the bet, so I knew how to behave when I was with you. But I laid myself bare to Stacie. I told her things I’ve never told anyone! I _liked_ her.” The pieces were starting to fit together in her head. “Oh my God. You fed me stories when she told me to listen. I went camping with you when she told me to be there for you. I kissed you, and she told me it was okay. She pretended to give me advice, but all this time she was just programming me! She gave you the controller, and you knew _exactly_ which buttons to press to get what you want. Well, you got it.”

                Beca opens her mouth, but Chloe can’t stand to hear another word. “Congratulations, Beca. You broke my fucking heart.”

* * *

 

                Jesse’s waiting for Chloe at her locker.

                “You don’t look angry.” Chloe grinds out through her teeth.

                "Maybe, I'm just good at hiding it.” He says, watching her with a tilted head.

                “Well, what are you waiting for?” Chloe snaps, slapping her hand against her locker. “Go ahead, finish what your cousin started. Ruin the last sane part of me.”

                “You’re a smart person, Chloe." His voice is neither here or there. Not happy, but not exactly furious either. "The fact that it got this far is because some part of you _let_ it happen.”

                “You think I wanted my life to fall apart like this? I was going to tell you about the bet, about Thomas’ party, about _everything,_ a _s_ soon as it happened, but I was worried about what might happen to Beca if your mom found out. Then I decided it wasn’t in me to lie, so that day at the Blue Roof, I was going to tell you. Stacie talked me out of it.”

                “I know you, Chloe. The fact that someone was able to talk you out of anything, means you didn’t want to do it in the first place.” Jesse shakes his head slightly. “Think about it, you knew the consequences and chaos that came with Beca, and you kept going back to her. You knew she wanted to sleep with you, you knew time was almost up, and on the roof last night, _you_ kissed her first.

                “I was just following Stacie’s advice. Which turned out to be fake.”

                “If you didn’t think it was right, you wouldn’t have done it. You can't act like you're completely innocent in this." 

                Chloe doesn’t know what to say, because he’s right. It seemed so simple laid out in front of her like this. She wanted to blame someone because she wasn’t used to things falling apart on her. She wasn't used to being on the wrong side of things. She had listened to Stacie because she was saying exactly what Chloe wanted to hear. _Oh, God_. “I’m so sorry, Jesse.”

                “I'm not going to tell you it's okay because it isn't,” Jesse says, wrapping his arms around himself. For support and defense. “I can’t tell you how much this sucks. It broke my heart to see that video.”

                “I’m sorry,” Chloe says, because what else _can_ she say. She hurt Jesse as much or even more than Beca hurt her. And she needed to accept that it was _her_ that did that to Jesse, not Beca or Thomas, or even Stacie.

                “Yeah, well.” He shrugs, staring down at his feet. “I deleted the video as soon as I saw it. The only person who can restore it is Beca. I don’t think she will.”

                “You don’t…why are you not angrier?”

                Jesse clenches his jaw. “I am angry. Or heartbroken. I'm starting to think those go hand-in-hand. We were together for a year, Chloe. _I love you_. But, I can’t change what happened. I wish I could unsee what I did, but I can’t. You’ll have to live with that guilt, and I’ll have to live with this loss.”

                He starts to walk away.

                “Jesse—”

                Abruptly, he turns back around. “Do you know what’s keeping me from completely going over the edge right now?”

                Chloe shakes her head.             

                “When we were little, my mom refused to have any more kids, so Beca was the closest thing I had to a little sister. She was my best friend. I loved her more than anything on this planet. I still do, even _after_ what she did. When her parents died, she lost the light in her eyes. She became so vulnerable. I was the only one who could get her to eat, or talk. I helped her through all her nightmares and panic attacks. I did all those things for her, but she never told me the full story about her parents. I knew the gist of it because they were my aunt and uncle, but not the details. I thought it was something that she’d take to the grave with her, but last night she told you.

                “I fought with her this morning, and I saw it again. That light in her eyes. After all these agonizing months of her walking around like a drugged-up zombie, she’d woken up again. I remember so many nights, sitting on the sidelines watching her struggle, and not being able to do anything to help. I wanted, more than anything in the world, to see that light again. Does it hurt that while you were breaking my heart, you were fixing hers? Yes, like a bitch. Will I be okay with it? In time, maybe. You’ll always be a scar on my heart, Chloe. My first love. You know, I’m a firm believer of soulmates and happy endings, and as much as I wanted mine to be you, it’s not.”

                Tears openly fall down Chloe’s cheeks. “I love you.”

                “But never like I love you, right?” His voice a sad echo of what it usually is.

                Chloe opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She wishes there was a way she could have them both. But there isn’t, and now she doesn’t have either of them.

                Jesse sighs, “I guess this is the way it is now. Just promise me one thing.”

                “Anything.”

                “Whatever happens between you two, don’t give up on Beca.”  


	21. Beca Mitchell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to say trigger warning on this chapter. There's a part that's a bit suicidal and it might trigger some people.

**Friday, October 23 rd**

                The tv is on in front of her, but Beca isn’t paying attention to it. She hasn’t had a single clear thought since Chloe had left her standing in the bathroom. Actually, that’s not true. She has had one thought. One thought that’s been repeating itself over, and over, and over, and over, like mantra trapped in her head.

_You broke my fucking heart._

                On the table between her and the tv, sits the skeletons of bottles. Her blood replaced with the drinks that were once in them. Her phone’s there too. Somewhere in the mess, under the empty ibuprofen box. It’s been vibrating nonstop since Wednesday.

                Every buzz driving Beca closer to insanity. If she’s not already there.

                Finally, she picks it up. There’s countless voicemails from Vanessa. Some from Tom, but that’s it. No one else. She clicks through the messages randomly, avoiding more than a few in between.

                Wednesday [11:34pm]:  **Beca Grace Mitchell, there better be a really good reason you aren’t home right now!**

Wednesday [12:02am]:  **Do you think this is funny? You need to get home before I call the police!**

Thursday [9:43am]:  **Beca, where the hell are you? You need to come home right now Beca. I’m not kidding.**

Thursday [3:35pm]:  **If you aren’t home by tonight, I’m calling the police. I’m not bluffing. Do you think you’re going to get away with this? You’re _fifteen,_ for God’s sake. This isn’t a joke anymore. Come. Home. Right. Now.**

The very last one. One minute ago.

                Friday [3:57pm]:  **Beca, please come home. Or if you don’t want to yet, just give me a call, or send me a text. Just _something_  to let us know you’re okay. You may not believe this, but I’m worried about you. I want you home, safe. So, please, I’m begging.**

That’s surprising. Beca clicks it again. This time instead of the words, she listens to the shakiness of her voice. The pleading in her tone. She really means it. Vanessa, I-think-you’re-lesser-than-dirt Swanson, truly wants her to come home. Beca clicks it again, and again, and again, and again. For sixteen blissful seconds it dims,  _you broke my fucking heart._

                That’s how Stacie finds her. Sitting on the grey sofa with her phone pressed to her ear. Vanessa’s voice soothing her.  _Vanessa’s_ voice _soothing_  her _._ What messed up world had Beca fallen into?

                “Okay, that’s it.” Stacie picks up the remote, killing the tv screen. “Beca, you’re going to go crazy sitting here. You need to get up, go shower, and instead of wallowing, you need to find a way to fix this. My whole apartment reeks of alcohol and broken heart.”

                “You didn’t hear what she said to me. You didn’t see her face.” Beca mumbles. She can’t see Stacie. No, she can. But it’s like she’s looking through a fogged-up window. She can see the blur of blonde. Her skin. The green of her eyes. Pink of her lips. But no details.

                “I didn’t see her, but I definitely heard her. She yelled at me for hours on the phone.” Stacie says, kinda miserably. “I didn’t know what to say. Anything I could say would just be an excuse. And  _I’m sorry_ doesn’t work without mutual trust. I fucked up, and I guess I have to live with it.”         

                “Well, I can’t!”

                “I’m not telling you too. But sitting here, killing yourself, isn’t doing good for anyone. You look like shit, Beca.” 

                “Thank you.” Beca deadpans. She picks up a bottle, dripping what’s left of it onto her tongue. “I broke her fucking heart. She said that.”

                “Maybe you deserve it. Maybe we both deserve this. We knew better than to fuck with a person’s life.” Stacie sits down next to Beca. The air whooshing out of her body in a sigh. “I don’t know what to tell you. My head keeps ping-ponging. Trying to move on from this – ping. Crashing back into how fucked up it is – pong.”

                Beca closes her eyes, resting, her head against the couch. “I don’t even know where to start. I can’t apologize. I can’t excuse my behavior. And I don’t know how to prove that I’m worthy of being forgiven, when even I don’t think I am.”

                “Try telling her that.”

                “Are fucking kidding me?” Beca laughs, bitterly. “I doubt she’ll let me get anywhere near her. No offense Stace, but you give the shittiest advice sometimes.”

                “I think I’ve come to that conclusion on my own.” She runs her hand through her hair. “To bad we can’t go back in time. Could fucking each other really be worse than this?”

                “Nothing could be worse than this. And anyway, by that point I already cared too much about her. It felt wrong to even  _look_ at another girl. It wasn’t the sex, it was me recording us that fucked everything up. She trusted me, and she’s right, I broke that to irreparable pieces.”

                “At least you’re taking responsibility. That’s a step in the right direction.”

                “One step on an hundred-mile road is nothing.”

                “It’s still moving forward.”

                “Slowly.”

                “A snail’s pace is better than not moving at all.” Stacie snaps. “This sucks, Beca. It sucks for everybody involved. I understand that better than you think. I’m thinking of ways to try to gain Chloe’s trust back, knowing I probably never will. But at least I’m trying.”

                Beca groans, throwing an arm over her face. She’s tempted to click Vanessa’s voicemail again, but that’ll just prove Stacie’s point about slowly making herself go crazy. “Just fuck off, okay?”

                “What’re you planning to do, huh? Stay here, until they kick you out of school for not going? Sit on this couch day after day, drinking yourself to death? What about the Swanson’s? I heard Vanessa. She sounded really worried, and you’re just going to be a dick and not even call her back? Are you going to fuck the rest of your entire life up over this?”

                “Yes.” Beca screams. She gets off the couch, picks up a bottle and smashes it against a wall. “I don’t think you understand how I feel. How fucked up I am. So, let me show you.”

                Stacie watches her, stunned into place.

                Beca walks over to the glass, picking up the longest shard she can find. She grips it in her fists, the jagged edges cutting into her skin. Bloods seeps through the spaces in her fingers, splattering on the carpet beneath her feet. It should hurt, but Beca can’t feel it.

                She starts to plunge downward towards her heart. Stacie’s body slams into hers. The glass falls from her fingers. They land on the tiny, snow like shards.

                “Are you fucking crazy?!” Stacie growls, pining Beca’s wrist down on either side of her head.

                Beca glares at her. Her heart beats faster against her ribs, forcing her to acknowledge it.  _I’m still here, already broken but indestructible. You’re stuck with me._

                “Get up. We have to go to the fucking hospital.” Stacie pulls her up. She takes off her sweater passing it to Beca. “Wrap your hand in that.” Then she’s talking to someone on the phone, and Beca can’t understand a word she’s saying.

                She just watches as black drops of blood fall from her fingers, splashing vibrant red against her shoe.

* * *

 

                “Next time use gloves when you’re cleaning up glass, okay?” The doctor says, finishing wrapping Beca’s left hand. They had to stitch the cuts on her palm, weaving through her fingers, she had felt the pain then.

                Beca just nods. She sobered up pretty quick after her breakdown. Now she’s just tired.

                “Good, you’re free to go.”

                When she goes into the waiting room Tom gets up from his chair. His usual clean-shaven face has patches of hair along his jaw. He’s in his school uniform, but it’s not perfectly pressed. It’s wrinkled, and stained. He’s a mess. Just like Beca.

                “Stacie had to go to class.” Tom tells her.

                They stare at each other awkwardly. Beeps, and shoe squeaks, and some woman bawling filling up the space between them. It’s sad, because the only person Beca has  _never_ felt awkward around is Tom.

                Tom adjusts his shirt, “don’t you need to sign something?”

                “I don’t know.”

                “Maybe, you should—”

                Suddenly, somebody jerks her around. Vanessa’s standing in front of her, her face bare of any makeup. She clenches her jaw, brown eyes blazing. For a second, Beca thinks she might hit her. Then she’s being squished against her aunt’s chest, strong arms encasing her body.

                Beca can’t move. She can’t breathe. She can’t speak.

                “God, you smell awful.” Vanessa murmurs.

                For a long second, Beca just is. “How’d you know I was here?”

                “The hospital called my cellphone.” Vanessa holds her out at arm's length. “Beca, what the hell happened? Jesse won’t tell me anything, and it’s driving me insane—”

                “Oh, that’s why you wanted me back.” Everything crashes back to the ground again. Beca pushes herself away from Vanessa. “So, you could find out what was wrong with your perfect angel. Not because you give a shit about me.”

                “Beca—”

                “You have no idea what it’s like to wake up everyday, knowing the people you live with – the only family you have left – can’t stand you. Do you have any idea how much it sucks to be punished just for existing? To be hated on because the law says I can’t live on my own, and my stupid dead parents left me under  _your_ care?”

                “Is that—”

                “I can’t do it anymore. I’m not as strong as I pretend to be. I’m a fucking loser. I just can’t do it. You try being second best to your perfect cousin. You try being the black sheep. The unwanted burden. Fuck you, Vanessa. I’m not coming back to live with you. I hate you. I hate fucking everything!”

                Without a glance backwards, Beca strides out the hospital knowing full well that all eyes are on her.

* * *

 

                Tom drives them around town in his car. Beca doesn’t mind, she’s not ready to go back to Stacie’s just yet. She’s okay with staring blankly out the window, thinking about her outburst. Some of the things she said, she didn’t even know she felt, until after the words came out. Good, whatever. She couldn’t care less about Vanessa’s feelings.

                She pulls out her phone, deleting all her messages.

                In her peripherals, Tom keeps glancing at her. He opens his mouth like he might say something. Shakes his head, like he’s deciding it’s not worth it. Then goes back to watching the road, only to do it again five minutes later.

                “What is it, Thomas?” Beca snaps, when he looks at her.

                “Um, it’s just.” He makes an uncomfortable face. “Are you…okay?”

                Beca rolls her eyes, “do I look okay? I’m going insane being trapped in my head. And I can’t get out. I’m stuck.”

                His eyes widen, “Stacie said you tried to…um—”

                “I don’t know what I was trying to do.” Beca lets out a breath. “I was just angry.”

                “I’d miss you if you did that.”

                Beca laughs, “you’re the only one who would.”

                “Ditto.” Tom says, glancing at Beca. He smiles, Beca smiles back.

                On their own, compared to everyone else, they’re different. Put together, they’re the same. Two socially inept, broken rejects that are just trying to make each other feel a bit more whole. “We’re a fucked-up pair, aren’t we?”

                Tom stops at a red light. “I wired all my trust fund money into your account last night.”

                “What?” Beca sits up straighter, gaping at him. “Dude, are you insane?”

                “Probably a little.” He says, wryly. “I was just thinking, life here sucks, so if you wanted to leave for LA now, you could.”

                “I don’t want to go anywhere.” The only place she’d want to go is to a world where she hadn’t fucked things up with Chloe, but not even Thomas’ money could take her there.

                “Then you don’t have to, I guess. But the money’s still yours.”

                Beca shakes her head, “what about your dad?”

                “I don’t care.”

                “You’re insane.”

                Tom laughs, “you already said that.”

                Beca taps her knee, with the tips of her fingers peaking out of her bandaged hand. It brings tears to her eyes, but she doesn’t stop. Outside, it starts to rain. Drops of water dotting the window. On the street, there’s a little kid dressed in a bright yellow sweater, reaching his tiny hand out in hopes of catching a raindrop. The pure sweetness of it reminds Beca of Chloe. Her heart breaks all over again. The light switches to green, and they’re moving forward again.

                To Tom, she says, “your dad’s going to kill you.”

                “Guess I’ll see you in hell.” He smirks, pressing down on the accelerator flinging them faster along the road.

                Beca’s heart picks up pace, “you really don’t care about anything do you?”

                His carelessness is a trait that Beca has envied since they first became friends. She’s tried to adopt it so many times, but it never worked. As much as she pretends in front of everyone else, she can’t lie to herself.

                Tom looks at her again, his eyes serious. “That’s not true. I care about Amelia.”

                “Okay, but only her.”

                “No.”

                “You care about something other than Amelia?” Beca asks, disbelievingly.

                Tom nods.  

                “No, you don’t.” Beca shakes her head. “What do you care about?”

                “Guess.” He challenges, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel.

                “Money?”

                “No.”

                “Your car?”

“Nope.” 

                “Football?”

                “I only do football because of my dad.”

                “I don’t know what else.” Beca gives up, impatiently. “Why can’t you just tell me?”

                “Because.” He says, sticking out his tongue like a child.

                “You’re such a dork.” Beca shakes her head, reaching over with her right hand to smack his arm. She sighs, when they turn on to the street Stacie’s apartment is on. “Thanks for driving me. I literally have nobody else I could have asked.”

                His shoulders slump, and he slows down his car. “Beca, I’m sorry.”            

                “What?” Beca asks, shocked. She had stopped saying  _sorry_ after her parents died, but Tom had never said it to begin with. He’d say,  _if you’re meant to live your life without regrets, what’s the point of even knowing what sorry means?_

                “It’s just,” he licks his lips. “You’re pretty messed up, and I feel responsible for it. So, yeah…I don’t know. I’m just, sorry.”

                 _Oh_. Beca thinks, blinking bewildered at the windshield. She probably should’ve known this already.  _It’s me._ I’m  _the other thing he cares about_. 

                “We’re here.” He says, parking. With a jab of his finger, he unlocks the car.

                Beca slips out, shuts the door, and leans into the window. There’s this feeling like they should say something more, but neither of them know what.

                Tom runs his finger along the wheel. “So, Chloe’s your…what?”

                She searches the deepest tunnels of her brain trying to find some sort of doubt inside her. She finds repressed tears, hollow spaces, broken hearts. She sees shy smiles, wind through red curls, fingers slipping into her. But no doubt, not about this. Maybe Tom’s not the one she should be confessing these words to, but why not? After all, he is the one that tipped the first domino. The one that made all the others crash.   

                “Even if she hates me for the rest of her life," Beca says. "She’s the one. Chloe will always be the only one.”


	22. Chloe Beale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel a bit guilty for saying this (and a bit hypocritical) but honestly I just wrote this because I needed to. A filler, you might say.

                Chloe hadn’t realized just how much Beca had become a part of her life until her phone stops lighting up with constant texts from her, and she spends all night in bed instead of being stolen away to make, impetuous, moonlit memories.

                At school, she doesn’t register that she’s been taking the long way to all her classes until she runs into Thomas, right in front of Beca’s locker. For a second, she’s stunned. _What am I doing here? Have I been subconsciously trying to see Beca?_

                Thomas bends down to pick her textbook off the floor.

                “Didn’t see you there.” Chloe mumbles. All she can think is: _you’re the reason Beca broke my heart. You sick, son of a pig._  

                He stands back up, “if you think she’ll show up at school, you don’t know her at all.”

                “I wasn’t looking for her.” Chloe lies. She’s become pretty good at it. She can lie through her teeth without her whole-body cringing, without the wash of guilt that comes after it.

                “Right,” Thomas says, sarcastically. “Because—” he looks down at the book in his hand “—AP English is in the Science hallway, right in front of Beca’s locker.”

                She rips the book out of his hand, “I don’t have to explain myself to _you_ of all people. So, if you don’t mind, I have to get to class.”

                In English, Mr. Wellington tells everyone to write a poem. Chloe spends two days staring at a blank piece of paper.

                On Friday, when it’s time to present she takes her paper to the front of the class. Everybody watches her, judges her. They’re expecting some airy poem, words weaved into a message of love. Jesse sits up in his seat but doesn’t meet her eyes. They don’t sit next to each other anymore. If people have noticed, they don’t say.

                Chloe smiles blankly at the class. She looks at the faint blue lines on white, willing words to write themselves. And they do. They form in hesitant strokes of blood red ink in her head. “I don’t know how to tell what hurts me more. Breaking a heart, or having mine broken.”

                With a force of will, she makes herself look up. Most of the class is frowning in confusion. Chloe wonders if they’re confused by the shortness of the poem, or the words in it. Or the fact that it wasn’t a poem at all.

                “That’s…great, Ms. Beale. Thank you.” Mr. Wellington says when the silence gets too long, and he realizes she’s not going to say anything else. “Hand in your paper, and head back to your seat.”

                Chloe places her blank page on top of the others already piled there and returns to her desk. She sees Mr. Wellington glance at it, then looks back up, meeting her eyes with a perturbed expression. She smiles sweetly back at him, on the inside, her body quakes with the same feeling that had crawled up her veins and poisoned her heart that first night in the storage closet.   

                A feeling she’d never know without Beca.

* * *

 

                At church on Sunday, Chloe’s parents slide into the same pew as the Swanson’s. Mrs. Swanson gives them a brief, tired looking smile. Mr. Swanson doesn’t acknowledge them. Jesse sinks lower in his spot, back curving, knees touching the pew bibles in front of him. His hair looks like he’s just rolled out of bed and his eyes are shaded red.

                When she realizes Beca’s not with them, her heart seizes. Then it pangs painfully when she remembers that where Beca is, is no longer any of her business. She sits down on the other side of her father, closing her eyes to stop herself from looking at every new person that enters the church.

 _What if it’s her?_ Chloe’s thoughts demand, meanly _. Don't you want to know if she's as messed up as you?_

                Chloe doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to know. She wants Beca to be okay because she’s had so much bad in her life, already. But, at the same time, she doesn’t want her to be because then she'll know whatever frangible thing they had between them was never real.

                In the pew next to her, Mrs. Jackson, a ninety-year-old woman that Chloe’s never seen anywhere other than church, smiles at her. Chloe automatically smiles back. Realization creeps up her spine and settles over her like a blanket. Nobody here except for Jesse knows her secret. Knows her sins. Her heartache. She’s still just innocent, girl-next-door, Chloe Beale to them.

                Raising her eyes up at crucified Jesus, she thinks. _You know. You know, and you haven’t denied me at the door. You haven’t struck me to hell for my sins._ Her mouth dries. She swallows. _Is this a sin? Am I a sinner? Am I going to go to hell for having these feelings?_ He keeps frowning, and Chloe knows she won’t get an answer.

                Maybe it’s up to her to decide. Then her father glances at her, and she knows it’s not up to her. Or Jesus. Or God. As long as she’s under his roof, and her last name is Beale, it’ll be up to him. And he’ll say, _yes, it is a sin_ , _yes, you are a sinner_ , every time.

                When the service ends, the Swanson’s who usually stay to socialize, are gone before anyone can even stand up.

                “Did they seem off to you?” Chloe’s mother wonders aloud.

                Chloe’s father shrugs, “probably something to do with that heathen of theirs.” He nudges Chloe. “Do you know anything about that, honey?”

                He asks this innocently. He doesn’t know anything. Still, Chloe’s overcome with the urge to scream. Instead, she gets up and leaves. She doesn’t agree with her dad just to please him. She doesn’t excuse herself politely first like she was taught to do. She just leaves. And her body flushes with _that_ feeling.

                Just like Beca, it’s becoming dangerously addicting.  

* * *

 

                In the bathroom before bed, Chloe glares at herself in the mirror. “I hate Beca. I never want to see her again.”

                It’s a lie, and she’s wrong.

                Lying hasn’t gotten easier. It’ll never be easy.

                Chloe doesn’t hate Beca. As much as she’s tried to, she just can’t.

                She meets her own eyes in the mirror, there are tired bags under them, but her irises are still as bright blue as ever. They’re reminders that she’s still Chloe. Heartbroken, she’s still Chloe. Kissing a boy or a girl, she’s still Chloe. In her cheerleading outfit, or in a lab coat, she is still Chloe.

                Even if she’s not completely sure who Chloe is yet.

                “I don’t hate, Beca. I hate what she did. I hate what it did to my heart.”


	23. Beca Mitchell

**Monday, November 1st**

              On Monday night, Tom shows up at Stacie’s door. His right eye swollen with a reddish-purple bruise, his bottom lip, split open. His shirt has streaks of blood down the front of it. He jiggles his keys restlessly in his hands.

              “Your dad finally found out.” Beca guesses, her fingers contract against the doorknob.

              “And they say all high school dropouts are stupid.” Tom laughs, then winces. His lip starting bleeding again.

              “I haven’t dropped out,” Beca scoffs. “Stacie went to talk to Principal Bingham, and he said I could come back when I’m feeling more ‘stable’.”

              “And when will that be?”

              “Who knows.” Beca shrugs. “Do you think we should call CPS on your dad?” She asks this, knowing they won’t. They never will. Until he moves out, Tom will endure it. He’s got this twisted belief that this is the price he has to pay for him being alive, and Amelia dying. But maybe it’s not so twisted because isn’t she doing the same thing?

              God, this is what happens when you live with a psychology major. Introspection.

              “No. This is probably some sort of karma,” Tom says, he twirls his keys around his middle finger. “Do you want to go to the Blue Roof? There holding some sort of open mic thing tonight. You know, poems, songs, rants. And, honestly, I’d much rather spend my time listening to other people’s angst than dissecting my own.”

              “I don’t know, dude.”

              “Come _on_ ,” He groans. “Can’t you be Beca Mitchell without brooding for one night?”

              “Alright, fine.” Beca sighs. She’s about to leave, then stops, rolling her eyes. “Wait, I have to ask Stacie first, she’s been on my case ever since…you know.”

              “Right,” he snickers, and Beca flips him off.

              Stacie’s in the kitchen, pouring over her notes like she does every single night. Other than being Beca’s quasi-parent, and school, she really doesn’t have a life. She pushes her glasses up into her hair when Beca enters the kitchen. “Who was at the door?”

              “Tom,” Beca answers. “Um, can I go to the Blue Roof?”

              “For the open mic night?” Stacie asks, sounding surprised. “Sure, I guess. I know they won’t permit you to drink, so yes. But Beca, no stops in between. There, and when it’s done, back, understand?”

              “Yeah.”

              Stacie had drained every bottle of alcohol she owned after the incident. She had forced Beca into being sober, and Beca’s head hurt so bad, she thought she might die. There is no way in hell, she’s putting herself through that again.

              Stacie squints her eyes, “you better not be lying to me.”

              “I’m not, _Mother_.” Beca rolls her eyes. “If you want, come with us.”

              “I am not spending my day off from work _at work_. You can go.” She steeples her fingers like she’s trying to decide whether to say something or not.

              “What?”  

              “You know Chloe might be there, right?”

              Beca’s heart stutters, she hadn’t thought about it. It’s been eleven days since she last saw Chloe in person. She dreams about her every night. The time between sunrise and sunset feels like its very own lifetime. “What am I supposed to do if she is?”

              Stacie sighs, “I don’t know. Do what feels right. If she doesn’t want to talk to you, don’t push her to.”

              “Okay.”

              “And if you feel like you’re going to flip out, come back here.” Stacie never calls it home. She knows Beca thinks she doesn’t have one.

              Beca nods.

              “Good. Bring your phone, and keep it on.”

              When Beca gets to the door, Tom’s wearing a shit eating grin on his face, blood dripping from the corner of his lip. He opens his mouth—

              “Shut up,” Beca growls.

              His laugh echoes down the hallway. 

* * *

 

              The Blue Roof Café is packed. They’ve brought out plastic chairs and rearranged their tables to make space for a makeshift stage. When Beca and Tom enter, a freshman girl that Beca’s seen Chloe hangout with before is standing behind the mic.

              Tom barely manages to snag them two chairs near the back. “Guess we’re not the only ones that wanted to drown our sorrows tonight.”

              Beca smiles and shakes her head.

              “Hi,” The mic squeaks high pitched, making everybody wince. “Sorry,” she laughs nervously. “I’m Emily—”

              “Woo, Legacy! You’re the best!” An Australian accented voice booms.

              Emily laughs again, a bit more confident. “Thank you, Fat Amy. I’m going to sing a song that I wrote. It’s called Flashlight. So, yeah, hope you like it.”

              She starts singing, and it’s actually good. Beca looks at Tom with an impressed face, but Tom’s too busy wiping his lip on his shirt. Beca looks around for the closest napkin, but everything’s been cleared off the tables. She stands up, and Tom asks where she’s going.

              “To get you a napkin. Your shirt will be drenched by the end of this song if I don’t.”

              Tom rolls his eyes.

              Beca weaves through seated people on her way to the counter. There are three teenagers frantically trying to keep up with everybody’s orders. The Blue Roof gets busy, but never this busy. 

              “Can I get a hot chocolate, please?” Ice slips into Beca veins at the sound of the voice. “Thanks.”

              She turns slowly. Very slowly, like if she moves too fast she’ll wake up, or scare away that voice.

              Chloe’s standing two feet away from her, in a black sweater, with her hair pulled up in a ponytail. She taps her fingers against the counter, completely unaware.

              Beca swallows, and blinks, and swallows again. Her whole body’s short-circuiting.

              “Excuse me?” A different voice says.

              But Beca can’t stop staring.

              “Excuse me, can I help you?”

              Blinking, Beca turns back to the barista. “Um, can I have a—a napkin?”

              “Sure.” The girl pulls a handful of them out of the dispenser. “Here you go.”

              “Thanks,” Beca says, gripping the napkins like a lifeline.

              She turns, and Chloe staring at her now, looking as shocked as Beca feels. Beca twists the napkins in her hands, trying to decide if she should say something. If she’s even _allowed_ to say something.

              Chloe glances down at her hand, still wrapped in bandages, then back up at Beca. In this lighting – soft LED bulbs strung up around the place —her eyes glow lambently. “What happened to your hand?”

              Her voice is detached. No emotion whatsoever. Not the first words Beca had imagined – over and over and over and over – but at least this is easy to handle. “I cut it on a vodka bottle.”

              Chloe sucks her lips into her mouth.

              Beca mind races with a trillion things she wants to say. _Chloe, I was a dick. There’s no excuse. I don’t expect you to trust me, but can we talk?_ Or _Can you laugh, please? I miss how it sounds._ Or _Could you smile? I haven’t seen anything beautiful in days._ Or _I don’t really know what love is, I don't know how to show it but I think with you,_ for you _, I could figure it out._

              Her hot chocolate comes, she pays for it. Beca’s heart teeters on the edge. Chloe turns and leaves. It falls to the ground, shattering. Again.

              Sighing, Beca returns to her spot next to Tom. She holds out the torn napkins for him, when he goes to take them, she doesn’t let go. He looks at her, confused.

              “I bet you won’t go up on stage and strip down to your boxers in front of everyone.” Beca deadpans.

              The smile on Tom’s lips curls into something lecherous. Dangerous. “I bet you won’t do it with me.”

              They get kicked out of Blue Roof, but the deep blush on Chloe’s cheeks when Beca was down to just her bra and boxers shorts was definitely worth it.


	24. Chloe Beale

                Three performances later, Chloe’s face is still on fire. She was not at all prepared to see Beca tonight, let alone _that_ much of her.  

                She wouldn’t even be here if her father hadn’t brought up her sudden lack of sociability the last nine days. For a second, she had imagined telling him the truth; _Jesse and I broke up, daddy. I like girls now_. Instead, she texted Aubrey, asking if she could tag along with her and rest of the Bellas.

                When Aubrey had said they were going to open mic night, Chloe didn’t expect she’d run into Beca. She didn’t expect the war of anger and concern in her heart when she saw the bandage on Beca’s hand. And she definitely did not expect Beca to strip in front of everyone. 

                Judging by the nonstop murmuring inside Blue Roof, nobody else that came tonight did either. So far, all the comments have been from girls about Thomas. _Oh my god, did you see his abs?_ or _I feel like I need to confess my sins after seeing that bulge in his boxers_.

                So, Chloe’s surprised when a _girl_ behind her says, “I’ve never realized how hot Beca is.” And then unexpectedly jealous, when somebody else says, “I think she’s single if you want to dip your toes in the sinful pond of temptation.”

                Chloe looks over her shoulder, and both girl’s eyes widen as if they’ve been caught doing something wrong. At first, Chloe’s confused— _do they know about me and Beca?_

                One girl says a very unconvincing, “kidding.”

                Chloe inhales and lightly closes her eyes. They don’t know, they just think she’s a homophobic church girl. Sighing, she turns back around and runs her fingers through her hair. If only they knew.

* * *

 

                The last performance wraps up at around ten. Everybody’s up and moving, pushing chairs and tables back to where they use to be, and hugging their friend’s goodbye. Chloe stands by the counter while the other Bellas goof off and Aubrey tries to round them up and out of the café.

                Something rumbles on the counter where her elbows are resting. It’s a phone. A phone that she’s almost certain she recognizes. Chloe pulls out her own phone and sends a text. The phone by her elbow rumbles again. 

 

**Messages**

**Chloe <3 <3: **forgot your phone here.

 

                Chloe doesn’t even have time to process that Beca — the girl who had threatened to block her when she had accidentally texted an emoji — put hearts next to her name when Aubrey comes up to her.

                “I _finally_ got them all on their way home. I swear, it’s like taking care of children—” Aubrey pauses when Chloe takes Beca’s phone off the counter and hides it behind her back “—what was that?”                   

                “Nothing,” Chloe says, too quickly. Aubrey raises her eyebrow, and she sighs. “It’s…um, Beca’s phone.”

                “Okay, so why were you trying to hide it?”

                “I wasn’t.”

                “Chloe,” Aubrey says, clearly not believing her.

                Breathing in, Chloe channels that feeling she’s been thriving off the past few days. The feeling of pure self-confidence that she never had until Beca. Looking around the café to make sure nobody else is listening, she says: “I have to confess something.”

                “Okay…”

                “Let’s sit down, this might take a while.” Chloe laughs, nervously.

                They order two cups of coffee from an exhausted-looking teenager, but neither of them drinks it. Aubrey just takes the lid off and stirs, while Chloe grips hers with both hands recounting everything that she should have told Jesse to her best friend. She doesn’t let go of it even when her palms start to burn from the heat.

                When she finishes telling Aubrey everything, her best friend shakes her head softly. “I never thought—”

                “That I’d like girls?” Chloe interrupts, with her heart thundering in her chest. “Well, I do. And if you don’t like it—”

                “That you’d cheat on someone,” Aubrey finishes, raising her eyebrow and tilting her head a bit. “Do you really think I care that you like girls? I’m not sure how being gay works, but I’m pretty sure that you’re still the same you. You’re still Chloe. You’re still my best friend.”

                “Oh.” Chloe blushes, speechless. She glances at the barista to make sure he didn’t hear. “For the record, I never thought I would cheat either. I just– I know it’s not an excuse, but I feel like I’m in a different world whenever I’m with Beca. A world where I get to choose what I want.”

                “Well, you’re not in a different world, Chloe. You’re in a world where there are consequences for doing stupid things.” Aubrey squeezes the bridge of her nose. “And liking Beca? That’s doing a stupid thing. You saw what she did today. You know first hand how she is.”

                “I know.” Chloe sighs, dropping her head in her hands. “I know that in my brain…just not in my heart.”

                Aubrey gives her a look of disbelief.

                Chloe shakes her head, “you don’t get it, Bree. The person I am in front of everybody else, that’s a mask. Self-fulfilling prophecy, Stacie told me that. People think and say that I’m just sweet, pure Chloe Beale. I can do no wrong. And so that’s who I am. That’s who I act like because I’m so fucking scared of letting the people I love down. But with Beca, I don’t have to worry about being a disappointment because she never expected anything from me.”

                “She expected you to put out.”

                “Okay, yeah. But when we went on those dates, she listened to me. The _real_ me and she didn’t judge me.”

                “She was just buttering you up, Chlo’.”

                “I know what I felt.” Chloe snaps, heart beating fast. Reassuring her that she _does_ know. “I know what I _feel._ I like not being the person people expect of me, and until I met Beca, I didn’t know I could be that person. You fit into your role, your life, so flawlessly. You’re good at being exactly who you are. I’ve been struggling with it my entire life.”

                “Nobody knows exactly who they are.”

                “Well, Beca makes me feel like I do. That one day I will because I won’t be constantly worrying about what everyone else thinks. She makes me feel like I can be whoever I want. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted. I hate these restraints. These chains dragging me to check off all the boxes that’ll make me the perfect girl. I’m not perfect.” She shakes her head. “I like girls. No, I love _a_ girl.” She gasps at her own words. Pausing, she tastes her next words like bittersweet raspberries bursting in her mouth. “I love Beca Mitchell. I can’t… _not_. I couldn’t force my heart to stop beating faster when she was near me. And I couldn’t force it to pretend to be happy when she shattered it into a million pieces. I liked her even still. Despite that.”

                “Chloe, okay,” Aubrey says, her eyes a little widened. “Okay, I believe you. But after the way this whole thing started, maybe you two need a little bit of breathing space.”

                “We already have had.”

                “Maybe you need a little more.”

                “I can’t do that.”

                “Then maybe you both just need to be a _friend_ to each other before anything else. Beca’s crazy, and you’re still hurt. Jumping into a relationship together will just blow up in your face again. Prove to yourself that the two of you fit, when there isn’t a bet or a boyfriend. Prove to yourself that you really do love Beca, in whatever condition, whatever circumstance, in whichever way.”

                Chloe nods, it takes her a few minutes, but she get’s it. “Bree?”

                “Yes?”  

                “I love you.”

                Aubrey reaches out and squeezes her hand. “I love you too, Chlo’. And for the record, I never expected you to be perfect. I do and will always love you forever, no matter what. Even though I still think you can do better than Beca." 

                Chloe smiles her first real smile in a what feels like years.    

* * *

 

                Aubrey says she has to go and leaves, but Chloe’s not ready to go home yet. She fiddles with Beca’s phone, still a little shocked at everything that just happened. Now five people know about her liking girls. It’s out there, they know, and she can never get that back. She’s not sure that she wants to. If finally telling Aubrey the truth felt _this_ good, how amazing would it feel for _everyone_ to find out? How amazingly scary and wonderful would it be to finally get to be her true self?

                It’s pushing twelve when she finally leaves Blue Roof.

                Outside, sitting on the curb of the parking lot, still in only his boxers, is Thomas. When he nods at Chloe, she can’t help thinking how young he looks. Just like Beca, Thomas rarely looks his age.

                Chloe’s in too weird of a mood tonight to get instantly mad at the sight of him. She nods back.

                “Aren’t you cold?” She asks, unlocking her Volkswagen. The dome light glows down on him, and Chloe’s breath catches at the sight of his beat-up face. She hadn’t exactly been paying attention to him while he and Beca were stripping, so she hadn’t noticed it before.

                He shrugs, “I can’t go back home like this, and my clothes are still in there. I’m waiting ‘till one of those fuckers nods off on duty, so I can get them.”

                “I can go back in and get them for you if you want.” Chloe offers.

                “What do you want in return?” He asks, narrowing his eyes untrustingly.

                “Nothing,” Chloe says, a wave of sadness crashing into her. Has no one ever done something for him out of the good of their heart? “Just give me a second.”

                She runs back into the café, locates his clothes, and runs back out. “Here,” she says, handing them to him.

                “…thanks.” He mumbles, shoving his shirt back on over his head.

                “Um, do you want a ride somewhere?” Chloe asks, running her hand through her hair.

                “If you’re doing this because you’re worried I’ll say something about…well, you know, you don’t have to. Beca made it clear that she’d kill me if I uttered a word about it, and I would never do that to her.”

                “Thomas,” Chloe says, smiling a little. “I’m asking you if you want a ride because I think you might want one. Not because of anything else.”

                He scratches head, “okay.”

                They get in the car, and Thomas directs her to his house.

                “How did Beca get home?” Chloe asks, knowing that she can’t drive, and she didn’t have her phone on her.

                “Beca doesn’t have a home,” Thomas says, making Chloe’s heart hurt. “Blue Roof called Stacie, and she came to pick her up. She was pissed.” He chuckles.

                “She lives with Stacie now?”

                “Yeah, want the address?”

                Chloe glances at him, “that isn’t why I helped you out.”

                He just takes Chloe’s phone, holding it up for her to unlock. When she does, he taps around, then puts it back down. “It’s in there, and we’re here.”

                She pulls up along the front yard of the house where it all started, and parks.

                Thomas just sits there. “You know what makes Beca so special? That feeling she gives you. The one where you feel normal even when everything else is so crazy. She makes you feel like you’ve got the world in your hands, and she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. That’s just how she is.”

                Chloe’s tightens her fingers on the steering wheel, unsure if she should say something.

                “She was the only one who constantly checked up on me when my sister died, even when she was going through her own shit.” He ejects his seatbelt. “I wanted so badly to be that person for her. I wanted to make _her_ feel the way she makes me feel, but I couldn’t. Beca loves you, she told me so.”

                Chloe’s stomach flips and she has to blink a few times to steady herself.

                He opens the door, “sometimes I wish I never made that stupid bet. Other times though, I think it’s worth it just to see her smile.” He gets out and shuts the door. Chloe can’t move, she just watches him walk across his front lawn. Without turning around, he shouts, “stop being a fucking idiot, Beale. Not everyone’s so lucky.”


	25. Beca Mitchell

                “You’re lucky Martha called me and not the cops,” Stacie says, unlocking the front door and holding it open for Beca.

                The entire ride from the Blue Roof to the apartment, Beca had hung her head and endured Stacie’s intentionally hurtful lecture on how irresponsible she is. See, when Stacie’s gets angry, she uses what she’s learned about the human mind, persuasion, and emotions and she wields it like a weapon. She cuts, stabs, and draws blood with her words, but she only does it after giving ample warnings beforehand. Beca couldn’t complain, she deserved the wounds she got tonight.   

                Beca stays where she is looking down the short entrance hallway and seeing the closet all the way at the other end of the apartment. Dread creeps up her veins. “Are you gonna make me go back to the Swanson’s?”

                Stacie’s face softens, and the anxiousness is replaced with instant relief. “No, but I am going to make you go back to school.”

                Nodding, Beca goes inside. That’s a fair enough punishment. She’s been bored just sitting around the apartment and waiting for Tom to come over anyway. She can’t believe she’s thinking this, but maybe going back to school won’t be as bad as it sounds. Her heart twinges, maybe she’d even get to see Chloe again.

                “There’s leftover pizza in the kitchen if you want,” Stacie says, placing her hand on the wall beside where Beca’s leaning and taking off her shoes.

                Beca shakes her head, thoughts of Chloe have brought back the pain she felt when Chloe had walked away from her earlier that night.

                “You didn’t eat dinner before you went out, aren’t you hungry?” Stacie asks, with one look at her green eyes Beca knows she’s going all psychologist-mode on her.

                “Don’t psychoanalysis me,” Beca rolls her eyes. “I’m just not hungry.” She walks over to the couch and flops down onto it.

                “Mhmm, and this has nothing to do with seeing Chloe tonight, does it?” Stacie asks, pulling Beca’s legs off the couch and sitting down next to her. “I’m not going to let you go down this hole again, Beca. You were just starting to get better.”

                Beca sighs, the difference between when Stacie lectures Beca and when Vanessa does it, is that Stacie actually makes Beca want to change. Sure, her words feel like punches to the stomach, but she comes around, and she helps you. She ices the bruises and bandages the cuts. She makes you sorry, and not want to do whatever bad thing you did ever again.

                “Fine, I’ll eat a fucking slice,” Beca groans, getting off the couch and stomping toward the kitchen. “Happy?”

                “Yea…aahhh,” Stacie says, through a yawn. She gets up, following Beca into the kitchen. “You know things will be okay eventually, right? It won’t be like this forever.”

                Crinkling her nose, Beca balances her pizza on her bandaged hand while peeling a mushroom off it and throwing it back in the box. She doesn’t exactly believe Stacie, but she nods anyway.

                “I’m going to bed, we both have to be up early tomorrow morning. We’ll have to talk to Principal Bingham about how you’ll be able to do your work without your hand.”

                Beca lets out a quiet groan making Stacie chuckle. She kisses Beca’s cheek and mumbles for her to get some sleep before going to her bedroom and shutting the door.

                Beca takes the box of pizza to the living room and turns on the tv. She flips through channels, pausing on one with an infomercial about a vacuum. In a dramatization, a little kid spills her red juice on the carpet, the mom just laughs it off because of her multipurpose vacuum. Beca’s hit with a surprise wave of sadness. Tom and Stacie have been amazing, but she misses having a family.

                Midway through her third slice of pizza, there’s a knock on the door.

                “Stacie!” Beca calls, muting the tv. She waits for a second, but Stacie doesn’t come out of her room. “Stacie, there’s someone at the door!” Still nothing. “Okay, I’m gonna get it,” She mumbles, padding quietly out of the living area and past her bedroom to the front door.

                She foregoes checking the peephole and doesn’t realize how big of a mistake that is until she’s choking on a chunk of pizza.

                Chloe springs into immediate action, moving forward and rubbing circles on her back. “Are you okay?”

                _Am I_ okay _?_ Beca bends forward, ignoring the pain in her hand that’s pressed against her thigh. _I’m—_ “What’re you doing here?” It comes out sounding more outraged than surprised, and Chloe steps away, standing back out in the hallway.

                “You left your phone at the café and I thought you might want it,” she reaches into her back pocket and hands Beca the phone.

                “Oh, thanks,” Beca clicks it on, blushing when she sees the notification and the hearts next to Chloe’s name. Chloe must have seen it too.

                “I guess I’ll see you around,” Chloe says, before turning and walking away. Beca blinks and is about to shut the door, but then she turns back around. “Actually, Beca—I wanted to talk,” Chloe says, quietly. Or maybe it’s normal volume and Beca just can’t hear over the sound of her heartbeat.  

                “Um, okay,” Beca squeezes the doorknob, she almost doesn’t care what Chloe’s going to say if it means she’s going to stay a little longer. “Do you want to come in?”

                Chloe nods. With trembling hands, Beca leads her into the living room. Chloe sits on the couch while Beca walks to the dining area to grab a chair. She drags it across from the couch and sits down on it.

                “Where’s Stacie?” Chloe asks, looking around the apartment.

                “Sleeping,” Beca says, picking at her bandages.

                “Okay,” Chloe runs a shaky hand through her hair. Seeing that Chloe’s as nervous as she is, makes Beca feel a little more relaxed. “I haven’t been honest with myself in a long time. I’ve even started lying to other people, and it’s been killing me. I cannot do it anymore and I need to surround myself with people who won’t either.  I’m asking you right now, from now on do you promise to be completely honest me?”

                Beca nods, “I promise.” She doesn’t even need to think about it.

                “Good,” Chloe says with a shy smile. "I’ve had kind of a crazy night—” Beca laughs, thinking of her own night “—It’s made me realize so many things, and one of those things is that I want you back in my life. But, as a friend. This whole thing has left me – and I know, you as well – with broken relationships. I think we need to work on fixing those before we jump into anything else—” Beca tries to keep the disappointment off her face – “I know that’s not what you want to hear, and trust me, at first neither did I. But personally, I have a lot I need to work on. I’m only just discovering the true me, and I think I’m ready for the world to discover this me too. I’m going to need all the friends I can get standing by my side during that. Plus, I think this is the only way we’re going to work. And I really, really want us to work, Beca, believe me.”

                Beca takes a second, letting silence bleed over them. Chloe plays with the belt loops on her jeans waiting for Beca to say something, but Beca doesn’t know what to. In the spirit of Chloe’s honesty, Beca will admit that ‘friends’ is not what she wants to be. At the same time though, she doesn’t want to be without Chloe ever again. God knows how much that hurt.

                “Friends,” Beca whispers, licking her lips and tasting it. It’s a little bitter but not unbearable. She thinks of her ‘broken relationships’ with the remaining members of her family, everything at school, and even with her own mental health. It seems like life is giving her second chance starting tonight, and it’s her choice if she wants to take it or not.

                Chloe watches her carefully from under her eyelashes with her bottom lip between her teeth.

                “You’re right, there’s a lot of stuff I need to work on too.” Beca nods, and Chloe’s teeth sink further. “So, friends, huh? I guess I can live with that.

                Chloe lets out a laugh that’s a mix of delighted and relieved. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that.” The smile on her face makes everything worth it. “These last few days have been absolute hell.”

                “I’m sorry. I know I’ve said it before, but I wasn’t really thinking then. I’ve had the time to think everything over since then, and I never wanted to hurt you the way I did. I never want to hurt you or anyone like that ever again.” Beca twists her fingers together, thinking about what Stacie said about how ‘sorry’ works. “I know it’s hard to believe me after I broke your trust, but I’m going to use us being friends to build that back up again. I won’t fuck it up this time, Chloe. I promise.”

                “I really hope you won’t, Beca.”

                They smile at each other, this new friendship with no ulterior motives, sending anticipatory butterflies free in their stomachs.  


End file.
